Hope for the Nations
by Martin III
Summary: -SF CD- Chester and May look for a way to placate Emild's king. Deanna and Natasha struggle to rebuild war-torn Iom. Sharland seeks an advantage over Cypress as the alliance with Guardiana tenses. Can Nick hold it all together? Rated M for sexual content.
1. Chapter 1: Two

Author's Notes:

Hope For the Nations follows up on plot threads and original characters introduced in my earlier Shining Force CD fics: "The King's Friends", "Deanna and Natasha", "While You Guys Were Out", "The Proposal", and "Loyalties". HOWEVER, I have taken care to summarize any pertinent backgrounds, so you should be able to follow along without having read the earlier stories. (Though you'll probably appreciate this fic better if you've read the earlier ones first.)

This fic is split into three parts. Part 1(the first four chapters) contains a small amount of explicit sex, and numerous sexual references. If that turns you off, you can skip Part 1; it has several major plot developments, but nothing you can't pick up on in later chapters. Parts 2 and 3 have some allusions to sex but nothing explicit.

Both praise and constructive criticism are appreciated, so post those reviews!

Technical Notes: The milieu of this fanfic is property of Sega, as are a lot of the characters. Many, many of the characters are mine... if you're not sure which is which, and would like to know, drop me a PM. This story is set five months after Shining Force CD, with the exception of Part 1, which begins immediately after Shining Force Gaiden II(Shining Force CD Book 2).

--

Hope for the Nations

plot and script - Martin III

with special thanks to Demonic Weasel for assorted helpful advice on the plot

--

**Part 1: Love**

"How will I find you O my love

in the darkness of day?

I will look in glass forests

where electric fish play

How will I see you when I find you

in the brightness of light?

I will see you on the silver train

that people call night

How will I know you when I see you

in the bareness of spring?

I will know you by starlight

where the road's echoes sing

How will I love you when I know you

in the greyness of mist?

I will love you forever

where sadness has kissed"

- from "Folk Song" by Jack Bruce (lyrics copyright 1971 Pete Brown)

- Chapter 1: Two -

They had made this same physical journey once before, with fear and uncertainty towards both the enemies awaiting them and their own feelings. Now they made it as though in a dream, buoyed along by emotions that surpassed their own understanding. They could not remember the tracks of the roads they walked, the forests they passed through, or how they had managed to find a ship with a crew that would take them to Iom. Through it all, they only had eyes for each other.

They talked often. Though it was generally Natasha who opened the conversations, Deanna was always quite willing to talk - and, more importantly, to listen. They spoke of mundane things like the surrounding countryside, but also of the place they were going, and the people they were leaving behind.

"I wish I'd thanked Mayfair before we left," Natasha said, leaning her head against Deanna's shoulder.

He adjusted his hand around hers. "She was... almost like a mother to you, wasn't she?"

"Always. She was so encouraging, so supportive. I was thinking of the last thing she did for me, though. Telling me to tell you how I feel." She smiled. "Listening to her was the best decision I ever made."

"It doesn't bother you... that I was going to betray you all to Iom?"

"But you didn't. You couldn't have... it wouldn't have been you. Besides, in your boots I'd have been tempted to do the same thing for Cypress's sake."

"But that's just it," he said with an tangible lump in his throat, taking his hand away from hers. "I wasn't thinking of betraying you for Iom's sake... it was for my own sake. I thought you couldn't forgive me if you knew who I really was, and how I'd lied to you. The only way I could keep you from finding out was..."

"Shush," she interrupted, grabbing his hand back. "I told you before, none of that matters. You're the only person who can make me feel this alive; that's all I care about. I love to hear anything about you, even the bad parts, but if you're going to use it as a reason to pull away from me, then just don't say it."

There was a pause. "It's still so hard to believe."

"What?"

"That you could... love me. Love me enough to leave your home, your friends..."

She smiled. "It can't be any harder to believe than that someone as brave and handsome as you could love an ordinary girl like me."

"There's nothing ordinary about you," he returned. "You're kind, and gentle. You even felt for the Iom soldiers we had to fight. You're the one who's brave. I'm... a coward."

The blissful expression on Natasha's face cracked. For a moment she looked almost angry. Her brow furrowed, and she opened her mouth to offer some remonstrance. Then she closed it again, and studied him for a minute in silence. He fidgeted uncomfortably.

At last she said, "I remember the first time you said something like that. It was right after you recovered from your fall from the cliffs. You said... you said you were a disappointment to your brother. Even though you became a sergeant at such a young age."

"You know Hindel was a general of Iom now," he said sadly. "Don't you see... how I became a sergeant so easily?"

There was a moment of silence as realization dawned in. "...I don't understand, though. I've seen you in battle; you _are_ brave. Maybe not at first, but... you changed. Didn't you?"

"Because of you. I never won a single fight until I met you." He'd been looking down - away from her. At this, he suddenly looked directly into her face. "I had to protect you. You were... are... too special for me to let harm come to you."

Putting a hand on his shoulder, she pressed her lips to his. He returned the kiss willingly, accepting that she loved him against every logic he could see.

When their lips at last parted, she said, "That's one of the things I love about you; you don't even realize what a charmer you are."

He smiled, not understanding, and not caring.

--

Cool evening air fell over his skin like a bed sheet. The cold season was settling over Iom, Deanna realized. He'd been losing track of time. And yet, it hadn't been that long... Just a few months ago, he believed Cypress to be a land of terror and cruelty, strength was an alien concept to him, Hindel was alive, and he had never met anyone named Natasha.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

He gave a weak shrug. "I'm not sure... I was just going to keep walking until I find someone I can help. ...Where do you think we should go?"

"Your plan sounds fine to me." Natasha rubbed at her sleeves. "Boy, it's getting cold."

"Yes." There was silence for a few moments, and then Deanna slapped a hand to his head. "Oh! ...I'm sorry..."

"What?" she said, mildly alarmed.

"I didn't think... the nearest town I know of is the port we just left, and that's a couple hours back..."

It took her a moment to catch the implication. "You mean, we're going to have to sleep out in the open?"

He nodded ashamedly. _As much as I've grown these past few months, I can still be completely thoughtless._ "I knew we'd have to... I didn't think of how you wouldn't be used to this weather..."

"It's okay," she said, hugging herself to his chest. "I'll survive."

But as the sun left its last beams upon the land, he could feel her begin to shiver. His heart hung down with shame and fear. If she came down with something...

His fear proved to be groundless. As they found a spot to settle down for the night, he remembered that Prince Nick had included a small blanket in the pack of supplies he'd given him. After satiating their hunger on some fruits gathered from the nearby trees, Natasha found a good spot to lie in and Deanna spread the blanket over her. It covered hardly more than the upper half of her body, but it would be sufficient.

"What about you?" she prodded.

"I don't need one." He hesitated a moment, then bent down to kiss her brow. "Good night."

She watched him lie down in a spot several feet away from her - on his front side, like her - and smiled. "Good night, my love."

--

Deanna awoke to a soft sound of discomfort escaping Natasha's mouth. He looked over to see her restlessly adjusting the blanket over herself, shifting and pulling at it in a clear attempt to make it cover the absolute maximum amount possible.

"Natasha? Are you... okay?"

She nodded. "Just cold."

He was silent for a minute, watching her. In a second it occurred to him what to do, but the presumptuousness of it made him hesitate. A few months ago, he wouldn't even have considered it. Even so, it was solely for her sake, so... would it really hurt?

He scooted himself closer to her. "Here... let me..." He couldn't figure out how to finish that sentence, but she regarded him with quiet trust, so he went ahead and moved the blanket down so that it covered her legs. After gingerly tucking it in, he spread his cloak over her upper body and, though the boldness of the move set a current through him that was nearly painful, wrapped his arm around her shoulders for good measure. He watched her eyes, ready to retreat at the first sign of a negative reaction.

For a moment, she showed no reaction at all. Then the corners of her mouth turned up slightly, and she said, "Thank you. That's much better."

Her eyes closed, and in hardly more than a minute they were both asleep.


	2. Chapter 2: One

- Chapter 2: One -

Her hand held tightly in his, Natasha blushingly introduced Deanna to her parents.

They were a bit taken aback. "An Iomite? One of the people who killed us?"

"On, no!" Natasha said quickly. "Not Deanna; he's different from the rest of them - different from everyone."

"So I see," her mother said, observing the looks exchanged between the two of them. The ice broken, they got up from their seats and greeted Deanna.

They all sat down to dinner with Natasha's siblings. Her brother teased Deanna with little mercy about their relationship, but Deanna endured it with his usual good patience, and at Natasha's prodding he knocked it off. Her younger sister was all curiosity, peppering Deanna with questions about Iom, periodically throwing Natasha looks of undisguised envy.

Through it all, the two of them clasped hands beneath the table.

--

Natasha's eyes flittered open, and she immediately became aware of Deanna watching her face. His arm was still around her, giving warmth.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked.

He shrugged, and removed his arm and his cloak from her. She wasn't sure how to interpret that answer, but it probably wasn't good. Had he gotten any sleep at all?

They breakfasted on more fruit, while he explained about the different fruit-bearing trees in Iom, and when they were in season. Then they set off again, in silence. Deanna was as shy about introducing conversation as always, and Natasha's mind was restless. Her sober morning awareness of what had occurred the previous night would not leave. It mingled with what she'd seen and felt in her dream.

"Deanna," she said at last, rubbing at the sleeve of her robes. "...do you... um... do you realize what we did last night?" He gave her a blank look. "We slept with each other."

Deanna reddened. "We... didn't do anything shameful."

"I know, I know, you were just keeping me warm, but..." _Gods, how can I say it?_ "...we were sleeping together, like..." She swallowed. "...like a husband and wife."

Deanna was silent. She should have expected that, she supposed, but it angered her. After seeing how awkward it was for her to put that observation out there, how could he just leave her in silence?

She glared at him in expectation. Catching the hint, Deanna looked down at his hands. "I... I love you, Natasha. I couldn't stand to see you shivering like that. I didn't meant to... violate your honor."

The genuine affection and shame in his voice made her wilt. "Deanna, I didn't mean... No, you didn't violate anything." She stepped in front of him and clasped one of his hands in both of hers, bringing him to a halt. "What I meant was, we've been acting like husband and wife since we left Castle Cypress. I think maybe it's time we made our marriage official, before we start forgetting that we aren't really husband and wife."

In her eagerness to explain herself, it all came out so suddenly, before she could think. Realizing what she'd said, she flushed and looked down. "Uh... I mean..."

"I can't marry you."

Her head shot up. "What?"

"I... I know you love me, but... I can't ask that kind of commitment from you. For someone like you... to give herself up to me..."

"It's too late for that," she said sharply, looking him deep in the face. "Like it or not, I've already given myself up to you. Whether or not we're married, you're the most important thing to me... I'd give my life for you, Deanna. It's not about if I'll make that commitment to you... it's if you'll make the same commitment to me." She took a trembling breath, and self-consciously added, "So... will you?"

She knew she had little reason to doubt what his answer would be, but she couldn't help it. She suddenly began wondering if the words he'd spoken to her back at Castle Cypress were only to soothe her hurt feelings, even though she'd heard the undeniable sincerity in his voice. It came as an incredible relief when he slowly, but with perfect certainty, nodded his head.

--

Natasha offered to follow the Iom marriage customs; after all, she was going to have to adjust to Iom custom on a lot of things. Deanna declined, however. "I don't want to make you become an Iomite," he said. "Cypress is a part of who you are, and I don't want to change anything about you. Both of us belong to both Iom and Cypress... the way we marry should reflect that. Married in Iom, under Cypress custom."

"That's a very good idea," she said, making sure the encouraging note in her voice was clear. _He's so thoughtful... The way he doesn't like to talk, it makes me worried that he's keeping some interesting notions locked up inside him._

"So, how do we do it?"

"Well... First, we have to get engaged. We need some ribbon for that."

"We'll be at the next town by early afternoon. Maybe we can get some there."

"No; let's just use this one," Natasha said, and began pulling at the ribbon which adorned her robes. Deanna reached out a hand to stop her.

"You don't have to..."

"I want to get married now, Deanna. Not whenever we stumble on a store that has all the niceties." When she finished undoing the ribbon, she shrugged and smiled in sudden bemusement. "Besides, I can just put it back on once we're done. It's not like you're going to want to wear it for the rest of your life."

"Wear it?"

She nodded. "I'm supposed to tie it around your sword arm. It represents your bond to me... that you'll always use that arm in my defense, and that you'll always be at my side on the battlefield, or something like that..." She shrugged again, and lowered her eyes. "It's a silly tradition."

In response, Deanna held out his arm for her, his face so serious it was almost disturbing. She found it impossible to look into that face as she tied on the ribbon.

"Now what?" he asked when she finished.

"Now we kiss."

He put his arms around her waist as their lips met. He was good at kissing, knowing just where to put his mouth to meet hers(not that she gave much thought to that while in one of their passionate embraces). His experience in that area came not from girlfriends, he'd told her, but from platonic female friends who used him for "practice". That one was a bit hard to swallow, but she knew she had to trust him.

When they parted, he looked a bit dazed, but still managed to say, "Is... is that it?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, we were engaged as soon as I tied on the ribbon. I just thought we should kiss."

Deanna smiled just slightly at that. He didn't have much appreciation for humor, but she rather liked that in him, as she wasn't one to crack jokes. She preferred seeing him smile for other reasons.

--

"And then... um... 'And therefore, I promise my love and devotion to you, undivided and unceasing, for as long as I shall live.'"

Deanna repeated the words she'd prompted with a solemnity that made her forget they were standing in an open field, rather than enclosed within the sacred walls of a chapel. A part of her still wished they could have had a grand, formal ceremony, but of course it was impossible. She was leaving Cypress behind, and they hadn't any true friends in Iom yet. As for the formal aspect, she doubted any priest would approve of a Cypressian ceremony being held in a shrine to Iom; she herself considered the notion disrespectful of Deanna's homeland.

"'May my honor be considered eternally abandoned if I speak false,'" she prompted again. Deanna hesitated at that one; just for a moment, but long enough for her to identify the reason for the hesitation, and agree with it. "You know, that part's just... pessimistic. It's as if you're saying that you'd break your word if there weren't really awful consequences. Skip it."

"You're... sure you're okay with that?"

She nodded. "I trust you." After a moment of silence, she began, "I, Natasha, have determined that you, Deanna, are rich in character and worthy in spirit..."

As she went on, she felt some of the same solemnity Deanna had used creep into her tone. The words she spoke were not hers, but their meaning was identical to the one her heart had been so eager to speak.

When she was finished, she leaned closer to him, and they kissed again. "Are we... married?" Deanna asked, tentatively in awe.

"Almost." Natasha bit her lip. "We still have to... consummate it. And I guess we're going to need a roof over our heads before we do that..." She paused to consider. Deanna did nothing to fill the silence. "I guess it wouldn't be right to do it in an inn, either. Where's your home, anyway?"

"The capital." Natasha waited for more. "It's a few miles to the southeast of the main shrine to Iom."

"I guess that's... a long trip, then..." _And a very awkward one, with both of us knowing what we'll be doing once we get there. Gods, why didn't I keep my mouth shut about that?_ Blushing, she said, "I can't believe I didn't think this out ahead of time. I'm sorry."

"You wanted us to get married. It's hard to think ahead... about something so emotional."

"Yes..." she said, clasping his hand in quiet gratitude for his understanding.

Deanna looked into her eyes for a moment. "I'll build a roof."

"What?"

"You want us married. We need a roof over our heads to be married. So I'll build a roof." He let go of her hand and turned his attention to a nearby tree.

"You don't have to do that," she protested half-heartedly.

"Yes, I do. It's what you want."

"But... all that time and effort... it's really not a big deal..."

"I... I don't think I'd be comfortable back in my old home, anyway. Too many memories..." He shook his head, and concentrated on chopping down a rather slim tree. "This'll be... _our_ home. Not..."

He trailed off, and knowing the danger of approaching a person swinging a sharp blade, Natasha could not come close enough to comfort him. Not yet. She stood back and allowed him to drive his sadness against the wood of the tree.

--

Natasha helped with the building of their home where she could, as well as handling such tasks as gathering food and water. In the remaining time, she talked to him. His earlier reference to memories in his old home made her realize she'd never asked him about his mother, so she brought her up as tactfully as she could.

"She was beautiful," Deanna said. "And kind... I think. My whole standards for kindness... changed when I met you."

"She didn't hit you, did she?" she asked, thinking of his father.

"Not that I remember. She died when I was little... I only have a few memories of her. Her smiling, singing to me at night, telling me stories..."

"Only happy memories, you mean?"

"No... there's some sad and frightening ones. But she was always... I mean..." He shook his head. "She always loved me. That's the best I can explain it. ...Most of my memories of her are pretty vague."

"But she was a good mother?"

"Yes. She was."

"I'm glad to hear that." She paused. "Did... I don't mean to keep on bringing up what your father did to you, but..."

"I don't mind talking about anything that my father did to me. He lived longer than my mother, but still, I barely remember him." He added, "And I... I'm glad to talk with you about anything."

It still astounded her. In spite of the fact that Deanna's father had beat him for a good portion of his childhood, Deanna didn't seem bothered by the thought of him at all. _How could he have accepted such repeated brutality so easily? Maybe I shouldn't be so fixated on that one part of his past, but... I'm worried it could affect his present. _Our_ present._ She said carefully, "Did your mother stop your father from... hitting you?"

Deanna sat down to rest for a minute. "I... I don't know. I was so young when she died... I think my father didn't think I was old enough yet."

"Old enough to be beaten?" She couldn't hide the edge of anger from her voice.

"Yes. That young, I might have been really hurt... my father wouldn't do that."

"Then... he didn't hit you that hard?"

Deanna shrugged. "It seemed awful at the time, but none of my bones are broken."

"What about your spirit?" she snapped. "Because of what your father did to you, you didn't even have the courage to stop that lizardman from attacking Luke!"

A moment later Natasha realized she had again spoken without thinking, but Deanna was already answering, "I did all those cowardly things, Natasha. We can't blame my father for my choices."

There was such shame in his voice. "Deanna... It's not your fault you're the way you are... were! You're a different person now, anyways! I wouldn't love you if you were a coward."

He was silent for a moment. "What about... your parents?"

"My parents?" Besides the change in subject, it took her a moment to decide how to explain two people. "I told you before how affectionate my family were with each other. We were always touching, sharing contact. I can still remember how my mother used to hold me whenever I cried and rub my back and run her fingers through my hair..." She closed her eyes. "They didn't try to shelter me, though. When I did something wrong, they made sure I knew it. They just didn't ever forget to let me know how much they loved me..."

--

When their little cottage was complete, they whittled away the remainder of the afternoon talking. They didn't converse as easily as Natasha had with her friends back in Cypress, but many of the things they spoke of were things she would never have been willing to discuss with her friends.

As the evening began to close, Natasha had to light the small lamp Prince Nick had provided Deanna so that they could see. There followed a few minutes where she deliberately prolonged the conversation, but when a silence fell between them, she realized there was no sense in delaying things. She cleared her throat and threw a glance at the bed, which they'd constructed by bunching together soft leaves and wrapping the sack over it. "We should..."

She immediately trailed off, hoping Deanna would get the point. Blushing, he said, "Do you... know how to do this?"

Her mouth wrinkled. "More or less. Mayfair explained the basics to me, 'just for future reference', she said. Basically, we take all our clothes off, and then we do whatever we feel like doing to each other." She tried to make it sound like less of a big deal than she expected it was going to be. "That's... Deanna, what's that look for?"

"I just... I didn't think Mayfair would know."

"Didn't she tell you? She's the late Archbishop's daughter. People in the church have to know about things like that, to advise people on the right thing to do."

"Oh." She took hold of his hand and gently guided him to the bed, but he hesitated. "I- I'm not sure I really understand... what we're supposed to do."

"Look, don't worry; we'll figure it out," she said in the most reassuring manner she could manage. "Just go with your instincts." With that, she sat down on the edge of the bed and snuffed out the lamp.

Natasha began pulling off her robes. In the darkness it was impossible to make out more than a vague silhouette of Deanna, but she could hear the rustle of him timidly removing his clothing. After a minute or so, the disappearance of the rustling cued them both in to the fact that they were naked. She sat on the bed; he stood over her. Both of them unmoving and silent.

_Gods, I... I don't know what to do!_ She swallowed. _Get a grip, Natasha. This isn't supposed to be hard. You're showing your love for him... that should be the easiest thing in the world._

Forcing herself to forget for a moment the enormous thing they were trying to do, she decided to start with something they already knew. She reached out and slowly pulled him into a kiss, to which he eagerly responded. The familiarity of the act made it easy and natural. At the same time, the feel of his bare shoulders under her hands was a startling yet pleasing new experience. This combination of familiarity and adventure dissolved her inhibitions. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, his arms. Apparently encouraged by her caresses, Deanna moved forward and stroked her waist, drawing forth a moan from her lips.

"Good or bad?" he queried anxiously.

"Good," she murmured. "So good..." She hadn't known such a loving touch since losing her parents, and never in such an intimate fashion. A need long slumbering in her subconscious was being satisfied.

An urge to return the favor struck, to show Deanna she loved him as much as he did her. Realizing there was no reason to restrict her kisses solely to his mouth, Natasha turned her attentions to the rest of his body. Gasping with obvious pleasure, Deanna held her to him. Together they tumbled onto the bed. He bent his head to kiss her neck where it met her shoulder, making her shiver.

From there, they were swiftly lost in continuous striving to physically express their love. Or rather, it would have been continuous were it not for their near routine mistakes: hands slipping in the wrong places, touches that tickled more than aroused. The first couple such mistakes were awkward, smoothed over by profuse apologies, but before long they were laughing in self-deprecation each time something went the wrong way. They were no longer in a hurry; they forgot the need to reach their goal, and simply enjoyed the way there. Through it all, Natasha felt an undefinable desire growing in her. She wondered if Deanna felt the same thing.

He must have felt some such compulsion, at any rate, because after a while of their half-fumbled lovemaking, he began probing at her with the thing between his legs in a way that felt like a direct answer to her undefinable desire. She parted her legs without hesitation.

When he plunged in, however, she felt a sharp jolt. It made her cry out, and Deanna pulled out in response, gasping an apology.

"No!" she protested, clutching herself to him. _We've made it so far... If he backs out now, he might never get the courage to try again._ "Don't leave me, Deanna!"

By now her eyes had adjusted enough to the dim light that, close as she was, she could faintly make out his face. He looked incomparably torn. He said, almost as a plea, "I don't want to hurt you."

The sentiment refreshed her heart, and that only made her want him more. "It doesn't hurt," she lied. "It just startled me, that's all. Please, Deanna. This is it; I can feel it."

Her word was enough for him, and Natasha clenched her teeth to keep from crying out again. He went in slower this time, however; the pain was considerably less. After a moment or two, it disappeared entirely, to be replaced by pleasure.

Natasha relaxed, and murmured words of encouragement. He moved within her, making love to her inside with the same sweet gentleness as he had to her outside. She moaned his name. He whispered in return that he loved her, his heady tone revealing that he was experiencing an equal bliss. Tears of happiness ran down her face at knowing he shared in her pleasure. She didn't want it to end. When it finished with him pouring a part of himself into her, however, she had no complaint.

Apparently recognizing that their task was finished, he grabbed the blanket and his cloak and pulled them over their bare bodies as he lay down beside her. After a moment, he put his arm around her and gently stroked her still quivering form.

"Are you... okay?" he said, sounding a bit shaky himself.

She nodded. "Fine. I just... I'd heard it feels good, but I didn't expect anything like that." There was a pause, and she felt the quiet warmth of his companionship settling in. She reached out and brushed a hand across his cheek. "Thank you... husband."

--

Natasha awoke to Deanna's warm body stirring beside her. She opened her eyes, saw thin beams of light peeking through the roof. "Good morning," she said, stretching just for the sake of it. Every inch of her felt wonderful. She idly plucked a hair from her robes; they'd re-dressed themselves in order to keep warm.

"Good morning," he answered, sitting up. Then he stiffened.

"Deanna?" He looked positively stricken. Alarmed, she sat up, and realized he was staring at the dried blood. "Oh. Don't worry; we can clean everything up at -"

"I did hurt you," he said, his tone as if he'd murdered a dozen innocent people.

"Oh no... no, Deanna," she said, wrapping him in what she hoped was a reassuring embrace. "No no you'd never hurt me I swear it. Oh I'm so sorry I should have said something I -" She stopped, forcing herself to take a breath and be calm. "That's normal. It always happens when a woman loses her virginity. Mayfair told me that. I'm so sorry; I should have told you."

"Please... don't lie to make me feel better."

"I'm not," she said, hugging him more tightly. "You can ask the next priest or midwife we meet; they'll tell you the same as me."

He was silent at first, then slowly laid a hand on her back. "No, I... I'm sorry. You've never lied to me. I should trust you." He strengthened his hold to match hers. "And I will. I believe you."

The words were so gentle, so full of love, but they stung all the more for that. His trust shamed her. _We can't begin like this. I can't allow a lie to remain between us, not even such a small one._

"It did hurt, a little," she admitted, kissing his jaw. "But it was worth it. Even if we don't get a baby out of it."

"A baby?"

She smiled. "What did you think we were doing?"

"I just... hadn't really thought about it before."

"Deanna... you do want children, don't you?"

Deanna cast a thoughtful gaze into the distance. To her relief, however, his expression reflected not consternation, but wonder. After a minute, he answered, "Yes... Yes, I would like children." He kissed the top of her head. "How many do you want?"

"Oh, lots," she said happily, returning his kiss. "But... not too many. We want to be able to give all of them plenty of attention." She considered. "How does six sound?"

"Good." Looking a bit daunted, though, he added, "I hope I can give you that many."

Natasha laughed briefly. "Don't worry about it. Six would be wonderful, but I'd be very happy to have even one of your children." She sighed and closed her eyes.

--

Though she told him she felt fine, Deanna urged Natasha to rest for the morning in order to recover from the rupture of her virginity. Sensing that he still felt guilty over hurting her in the slightest(even if she'd deemed it necessary), she didn't argue. It was important for him to feel he was doing something to make up for his supposed trespass.

Which did not make it any easier to lie in bed by herself while he went out. Natasha wished she hadn't left all her things behind at Castle Cypress; her spell books would have been especially useful for relieving boredom. Reaching a hand out to paw through Deanna's pile of things, however, she discovered that he'd brought along his book on Spark magic.

When Deanna came back early that afternoon with food, she was sitting up in bed, reading. She looked up. "We never got around to you teaching me this spell."

"I'm sorry... I..."

She shook her head, smiling. "It's not your fault. We both had other things on our minds." She patted a spot on the bed. "C'mere. I can't understand this part; maybe you can explain it to me."

--

By the following morning Natasha felt certain she was completely healed. "I'm going for a walk," she announced.

"I'll go with you."

She shook her head. "I just need a bit of alone time. I won't be gone long. Besides, you still need to do the finishing touches on the house."

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. She gave him a quick kiss goodbye and went on her way.

In truth, far from needing "alone time", she would have been happy to spend every minute of the day with Deanna. What she really wanted was to do some hunting; while the fruit they'd been gathering was delicious, she was ready for something different. Having no hunting skills whatsoever, Deanna would have only been in the way. Natasha wasn't too highly trained herself, but her Freeze spells were effective enough. Telling another lie made her a bit uneasy, but she'd lied only in order to surprise him, so it seemed harmless enough.

Making her way into the deep of the woods, Natasha quietly blended in with the forest the way her father had taught her. To be honest, she wasn't terribly good at it; patience wasn't in her nature. As she'd expected, however, the larger game wasn't cautious enough for her imperfection to make a difference. After a while, a large, six-legged creature with a heavy shell lumbered into view.

There was nothing for which she needed to conserve her mystic energies, so Natasha let loose with a level 3 Freeze spell. The creature writhed for a moment, then slowed, then sleepily lay down on the earth, releasing its final breaths.

Removing the meat from the shell proved a difficult task, though she made do using Deanna's knife. She gathered what she could and went back to the house.

To her surprise, Deanna was not there. She immediately tensed; he hadn't said anything about going anywhere, and she hadn't been gone long enough that he would have come looking for her. Looking around, however, she couldn't see any signs of a struggle. Indeed, aside from Deanna himself, nothing was out of place.

Deciding that he must have wandered off to get more wood, she left the meat in the house and headed for the nearby spring. Deanna had built the house there in part because they could use the spring for drinking, washing, and bathing, and after handling the dead animal, Natasha felt a strong urge to clean her clothes and hands. Though Iom's cold season made the evenings chilly, at midday it could still get almost uncomfortably warm, making the idea of a bath even more enticing.

It was just a couple minutes walk to the spring. As she came in sight of it, she stopped short.

Deanna was there, and apparently he'd had the same idea as her, because he was standing a couple hundred meters away on the edge of the spring and removing his tunic. Natasha looked on, entranced; she had never actually gotten a look at his bare form by anything better than flickering candlelight. He was lean, but his muscles were refined by having been in physical training for over half his life.

When he took off his pants, she had to lean against a nearby tree for support. Besides the crude fact that she very much liked what she saw, there was a sublime thrill to seeing her love in his bare physical essence, to look upon parts of him that only the two of them were privy to. The fact that she had every right to see him this way only increased her arousal.

As Deanna began wading in, it occurred to Natasha that there was no sense in just watching. She stripped off her clothing and ran to join him.

The sound of her feet splashing into the spring made Deanna look up. His eyes widened - not in awe, but in alarm. He hastily averted his gaze from her body and, in a desperate attempt to cover his private parts, threw his hands over his crotch and half-crouched over.

"What are you doing?" Natasha laughed as she reached him.

"I... you... I..." he stammered, flushing helplessly and risking only the most furtive glances at her face.

Realizing she had genuinely flustered him, Natasha sobered at once. Laying a hand on his back, she said, "We don't have any secrets from each other, Deanna. Not anymore. Remember how we said we were giving ourselves up to each other?" She paused. "You're not afraid of me seeing you, are you?"

"Of course not. I just... I..." He gave up. "I don't know. I know we're married, but..." He trailed off.

"Deanna... look at me." He didn't move. "Come on, Deanna. I love you, and I want you to know me, both heart and body. ...I know that sounds silly the way I say it, but -"

"No." He shook his head. "It doesn't sound silly at all."

"Then look at me."

Even then, it seemed to take an hour for him to fully open his eyes and turn his face to her. His painstakingly slow movement gave plenty of time for Natasha to feel self-conscious. She had never been ashamed of her body, but Deanna's imminent scrutiny made it suddenly occur to her that, with her angular hips and pitifully small breasts, she wasn't exactly alluring. As Deanna's one visible eye at last looked over her body, she had to resist the urge to blush.

"Okay," she said, swallowing as she cast a glance at his hands. "Now, um... let me see you. All of you, I mean..."

He hesitated. "It's pretty ridiculous-looking."

"I got a glance of it already, Deanna. Come on." He didn't move. "Deanna?"

"This is hard," he said. He was still in an awkward half squat, clumsily shielding his privates. Natasha couldn't help but be moved to pity. "We weren't... in the habit of seeing each other naked in my family."

"What if I help?"

He considered a moment, then took a deep breath. "Okay. If you really want me to... then please, help."

"Try not to think of it as such a big deal," she said, reaching out to grasp his wrist and slowly pull it away. Deanna began trembling violently. "Relax. I'm your wife, remember?"

Her words didn't seem to reassure him. He gave a loud gasp and squeezed his eyes shut when they succeeded in prying his hands away.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. Fine," he said quickly, not opening his eyes. "Are you done looking yet?"

Oddly enough, it looked somehow different than it had when she first saw it. But not in a bad way. "I didn't want to just look," she protested, and leaned against him to kiss his lips.

The implication of her words might have eluded Deanna, but her body language certainly didn't. His eye opened. "But... what if I hurt you again?"

"I think it just hurt because it was my first time. Even if it does hurt, I'll still be happier if we do it."

Deanna hesitated a moment more. However, his desire to please her was apparently stronger than his modesty. He abruptly returned her kiss, then moved his lips to her bosom.


	3. Chapter 3: Three

- Chapter 3: Three -

The next couple weeks were spent in paradise. None of their concerns were close at hand, so Deanna and Natasha were free to focus on each other. He spent an hour each day guiding her through the book on Spark magic, and she soon mastered the first level of the spell. In turn, she showed him the basics of hunting.

They mated frequently, reveling in the brightness of the days and dispelling the chill of the nights with their passion. As intense as Deanna's shyness toward the act had been, he shed it quickly in the face of Natasha's forthrightness. It became for him, in addition to the means of hopefully impregnating Natasha and an enjoyment of her feminine body and sweet ardor, a sort of task to be mastered. Realizing the pleasure he could give her, he began seeking ways to reach its full potential, learning by trial and error where and how she most liked to be touched. Pleasuring her became a penance for all the times he'd hurt and lied to her, and he felt some vindication each time she reached for him, eyes pleading for his touch.

It was odd, Deanna thought. In his youth he often heard the other boys brag about their sexual adventures, and though he hadn't understood what they were talking about at the time, he felt envious of their talent and experience. He realized that he and Natasha couldn't be "doing it well", having neither experience nor know-how, but it didn't matter. They loved each other. That alone made the experience wonderful, and without it, everything else would have been hollow. He was better off than those boys he'd feared and envied, boys whose only encounters with the opposite sex could be openly bragged about to casual acquaintances. His experiences with Natasha were special, not to be told to anyone.

For her part, Natasha became fairly addicted to the act as Deanna learned to bring her to higher thresholds of pleasure. It reached the point where she couldn't imagine going 24 hours without him making love to her, though that was in part due to her eagerness to have a child. She acquired the habit of pulling him in as deep as possible whenever he released, a compulsive measure to ensure none of his precious seed was lost.

It was odd, Natasha realized. Before Deanna, she'd felt no desire whatsoever for children. Her fantasies of Prince Nick involved mothering children, but only out of duty to him and Cypress. _Is this new urge just part of growing up? Or is it that I'm not so much inclined to motherhood itself as I am to having Deanna's children?_ She gave up on the question quickly, not really caring what the answer was.

Most of their time, however, was spent in just talking. In spite of the awkward moments, they never tired of it; him listening attentively to whatever she had to say, no matter how foolish it seemed to her, and she always sympathetic to whatever pain or failing he brought out of his past. They were both eager to learn about each other, and to talk of their future.

It had to end before long, however. Even Natasha couldn't keep Deanna distracted from his mission for an extended period of time.

"I promised myself I'd give something back... for all the things I've been given," he explained. "The people of Iom... they need help. After all that happened... in the war..."

She looked at him with puzzlement. "I'm not arguing with you about helping them. I never have."

"I know, but... we're married now, so you'll have to come too..."

She smiled and hugged him. "You think I didn't put my promise to this? Well, you're wrong. I don't care what we have to do, so long as we're together."

It was well-said but, Natasha had to admit to herself, not completely true. She did feel a pang at leaving behind their home and the days of bliss they'd spent together. Still, it was hardly a lie; the thought of facing the suffering brought by the war gave her no fear with Deanna at her side, and was far preferable to the guilt she knew she'd eventually feel if they were to abandon people in need.

"We'll come back here someday," he said softly. "I promise."

--

They arrived at the next town late in the evening, so they went straight to the inn and paid for a room. Natasha saw the innkeeper leer at them as they went up, but it didn't matter to her what he thought. She and Deanna did not make love the same way as other newlyweds; she doubted any of them loved each other the same way. If the man had any real notion of love, he wouldn't have looked at them with such disrespect.

The room was small, but evenly lit by a lantern sitting on a table, and the bed was the most comfortable she'd seen since leaving Cypress.

"Tomorrow we'll ask around town," Deanna said, setting their things down. "Find out if the people here need help, and how we can help them."

She nodded, wondering why he was saying something so obvious. After waiting a moment for the atmosphere of being alone together to again settle over them, she put her arms around his neck and gave him her look.

Deanna looked nervous for a moment. "Can we... here? I mean..."

"I got the impression they expect this sort of thing," she said, and kissed him.

When they were finished, Deanna wrapped her up in the better part of the soft sheets and blankets which lay over the bed. He seemed to take great pleasure in having something more than his cloak and a small blanket to tuck her in with. She giggled. "Wrapped up like a cocoon. I guess I'm your prisoner."

He froze. "Too tight?"

"I was teasing. It's very snug."

He relaxed, and looked at her for a moment. "I love you."

"I love you back," she smiled, and poked a hand out from the covers. "Come in here."

As always, he obeyed. When he shifted next to her, Natasha's leg happened to brush against his crotch, and she giggled again. "You're already ready to do it again, aren't you?"

Deanna blushed. "I... We need our sleep tonight, Natasha."

"Oh." She didn't hide the disappointment from her face. After a few moments, she said, "I'm worried, Deanna. Don't you think I should be pregnant by now?"

"It takes time, and we've only been doing it a few weeks." He kissed her forehead. "Don't worry; you'll have one."

It wasn't an outright lie, but by now Natasha felt she knew him well enough to conclude that he was as worried as she was. _Still... he does have a point. There's no point worrying about it yet. And I shouldn't be bothering him about it; he'll blame himself._

Saying nothing more, she held herself close to him as they drifted off to sleep.

--

The next morning they made their inquiries. Natasha did most of the talking, but not wanting to be useless on his own chosen mission, Deanna overcame his shyness enough to throw in a few remarks where Natasha's lack of familiarity with Iom became a stumbling block. Before long, they had pieced together that most of the able-bodied men in the near region had been drafted into the war with Cypress, and many had not returned. As a result, the fields were insufficiently tended.

In their hunt for information, they came upon many homes with hungry children. Obviously pained by the sight of their suffering, Natasha asked Deanna if he could run back to the inn and get the fruit they'd brought along. When he returned, he was rewarded by the sight of Natasha distributing the food to the children. It made him wonder once again how someone so wonderful could have chosen to be with someone as unworthy as he.

_Even though I came here to help, I'd never have thought to give what food we have to these people. But... Natasha doesn't think I'm unworthy. And the way she treats me, it... it almost makes me feel as though I'm not._ He shook his head as they moved on. _All I know is, it won't do Natasha any good for me to wallow in my inadequacy. I have to at least try my hardest to be worthy of her; that's the only way I ever can be. Even if I can't succeed, it'll be better for her if I try._

Once they'd gathered all they needed to know and given away the last of their food, there was only one thing to do: help the dwindling populace tend their fields. The townspeople naturally took some convincing of their good intentions, but Natasha, as always, was passionate and believable when she spoke of doing right.

"I'm sorry," Deanna said as they set to work at the harvesting. "That I couldn't think of a better way to help these people, I mean."

She smiled at him. "Sometimes there's no better way to do a job than to just roll up your sleeves and work. Mayfair taught me that."

He stared. "How can you be so cheerful? You wanted to be pregnant by now... instead you're working like a slave."

"Because I know we'll do good this way. Just wait and see. Besides... I have you with me."

--

They pulled themselves into a routine: breakfasting at the inn, working in the fields most of the day, returning to the inn for dinner, and making love at night. They took plenty of short breaks from their work, during which the people they were helping sometimes brought them company, meager food, and refreshment to keep them going. Natasha got along well with all of them, but especially the children. Seeing the happy look on her face as she entertained them made Deanna's heart swell with joy at her compassionate nature. At the same time, however, it was a painful reminder of his failure to give her what she most wanted.

Aside from that, Deanna felt that he could not have been happier. He was helping his countrymen, bringing hope to suffering people, redeeming his crimes with the toil of his sweat, and through it all he had a woman he loved more than life itself beside him.

Once they caught up on the work enough that the townspeople would make it through the coming season, they moved on; there were too many other villages that needed help. They went on, village to village, filling in for the work that would have been done by the men lost to the war. It wasn't long before Natasha began to show signs of fatigue. She did her best to hide it, but when she started becoming sick in the mornings, Deanna knew he had to put a stop to it.

"You can't do this anymore," he told her. "You can't be out working more than three hours a day... and not all at once. You need rest."

"Stop it, Deanna. You know we have to help these people. And I'm going to do as much to help them as you, whether you li-"

"No," he said firmly, startling her to silence. He was astonished himself. _Did I actually interrupt her?_ "I can't let you keep on doing this... You're sick. If you just go on pushing yourself, you..." He swallowed, and pleaded to her with his eyes. "I'd die if I lost you. I... I don't know if the guilt or the broken heart would kill me first."

Being a creature of compassion, she yielded. As she followed Deanna's directions for rest, her fatigue lessened, though the sickness persisted.

At the fourth village they came to in their mission, they were approached in the field by two young men. They were tall, dark-haired, handsome, and similar enough in appearance that they could well have been twins, and were almost unquestionably brothers.

"Are you Deanna and Natasha?" one of them asked. Deanna nodded uncertainly. "I'm Hal, and this is Shim. We've heard about you... what you're doing." He received no response to that. "We want to join you."

Deanna blinked. "Join us?" Natasha echoed. "Why?"

"We're tired of sitting around our nowhere hometown, doing nothing worthwhile," Shim said bitterly. "Wars are being fought, people suffering, and we can barely even walk out the front door of our home."

"We want to go out into the world," Hal added. "To see other places... to help people! We want to do some good in the world before we get old."

"But doesn't your own family need you?" Natasha pressed.

Hal shook his head. "We've done all they really need us to do. They'll be fine. Other people need us more."

Natasha gave Deanna a questioning glance, implying that she, at least, approved of them. Deanna nodded. "Okay. We... We'll be glad to have you."

--

As they continued their work, others joined the cause. Most were adolescent women: young, idealistic, and not yet attached to working for their own good. Their numbers seemed to multiply, as Hal and Shim's joining made people realize they were accepting recruits, and then as their increasing size made the less bold more eager to hop on the bandwagon. Early on it reached the point where Deanna and Natasha feared their finances wouldn't be able to keep them all at the local inns. This problem was solved by itself, however, as innkeepers, having heard of the good they did wherever they went, began eagerly inviting them to take on rooms free of charge.

There was much more for the team of aid workers to do besides helping to tend fields. Along their journeying, they picked fruits and caught game from the uninhabited areas of Iom and brought them to the needy. On a few occasions they happened upon soldiers who were lost or had their unit wiped out, and helped them back to the nearest town. And when they learned packs of bandits were beginning to run wild across the land, Deanna and Natasha began training their followers in combat so that they could defend the villages.

In the midst of one of these training sessions, a man on horseback came riding up and delivered a letter to Natasha. She frowned for a moment, then let out a breath of surprise as she turned the letter over. "It's fixed with the royal seal," she whispered to Deanna.

That astonished him even more. To have sent a letter from Cypress to a person in Iom whose precise whereabouts were unknown... "I didn't know Prince Nick favored you that much."

They excused themselves from their trainees to read the letter. Natasha smiled slightly as she finished it, then put it back in the envelope.

"What is it?"

"We're invited to Prince Nick's coronation. They're holding off the ceremony until our arrival, because of..." She paused a moment to dig the letter back out of the envelope. "...because of 'the invaluable part you played in securing the kingdom', it says." She gave a slight sigh, then forced her smile to spread across her face as she looked up. "I guess I'd better tell the messenger that we won't be able to come."

Deanna said nothing as she got up and walked away, only watched her thoughtfully.

Later he spoke to Hal and Shim privately about the letter. "I know she wants to go," he finished, giving them a look of petition. "Do you think you can... look after things for a few weeks, maybe?"

They seemed daunted at being offered such a task, but they agreed. Deanna clasped each one's hand and poured as much of his gratitude as he could into his words of thanks. He could sense that it was for Natasha that they were doing it, not for him, but that only made his warmth for their new friends stronger.

--

Natasha was indeed more than pleased to go to Prince Nick's coronation. Moreover, the new king had had his servants hold onto the things Natasha had left behind when she went off with Deanna. When they got back to Iom, after checking with Hal and Shim to see what had occurred in their absence, Deanna set the things on the bed in their room for Natasha to sort through.

There wasn't much, naturally, but Natasha was pleased to have back a bracelet her mother had made for her, her hooded cloak, and her staff. She gave a cry of delight at finding her spell books, and immediately opened up one of them. When she did, a few papers slipped out from between the pages. Natasha caught them before they could hit the ground, then looked them over. She frowned.

"You didn't put those there?" Deanna asked.

She shook her head. "These look like some of Prince Nick's papers. They must have slipped in somehow... maybe he stuck them in there to keep them from blowing away, and forgot to take them back out." She inserted the papers in between the back pages of another of her spell books. "We'll just have give them back the next time we see him. At least they don't look very important."

"If they are, he'll probably send a messenger to get them back."

"Yes... if he realizes that I have them." With a grimace, she concluded, "Let's try not to worry about it too much. It's not like we can make a trip to Cypress just to bring them back, and there aren't any messengers in Iom. Especially not ones who would risk going to Castle Cypress."

"We're going to change that."

Natasha grinned. "Getting awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"

He shook his head. "Not of myself. Of us."

"I wish I was, too." She bit her lip. "Are we really making a difference, Deanna? It seems like there are just so many people practically starving..."

"What we're doing is spreading." He took hold of her shoulder and gently brought her to himself. "And you don't appreciate what... what you mean to these people. People in Iom... they don't care for the weak. It's not our way. With your... your kindness... you're showing them there's a better way."

"Deanna, that's ridiculous," she returned, but he did not flinch, hoping the look in his eye would show the truth of what he said.

Natasha fidgeted. "Besides... you're much more important... you've shown them someone as strong as you can be generous and..." She trailed off, and settled for giving him a soft kiss.

--

To Natasha's gratitude, the cold season in Iom gradually passed. Their team of aid workers grew to the point where they could split into three groups, systematically covering Iom. At times the leadership of such a large group became difficult for Deanna, but Natasha was always there to help, though they agreed it would be best if he held the appearance of being the sole leader.

It was a time of great hope and vindication for the two of them, but always faintly darkened by Natasha's empty womb. At length they determined they had to see a midwife.

They were directed to a small thatched hut, and on walking in, found a surprisingly young woman, barely into her thirties. She gave them a curt nod. "You are here for a consultation?" Natasha nodded, and the midwife thrust out an open palm. "It's 10 gold."

Natasha started, but handed the money over after a moment. Deanna was uncertain for a moment himself, but he reminded himself that they would not have been directed to the woman if she were incompetent. The woman gestured to two cheap wooden chairs for them, and took one herself.

There was a moment of silence, and it dawned on them that she expected them to speak first. Natasha cleared her throat. "We've been, um... sexually active... for months now. And I'm... well, as you can see, I... I'm not getting pregnant."

The midwife's unflinching expression seemed to unnerve her. Deanna knew it was unnerving him. After taking a moment to steel her courage, Natasha continued, "And I... lately I've been getting tired really easily. And for a while I kept on getting sick, and... maybe this doesn't mean anything, but after Deanna and I married, I didn't menstruate for almost two months..."

"You didn't what?" Deanna asked.

"I'll explain later," she murmured, and then, more loudly, "What do you think this all means?"

Her voice revealed that, like Deanna, she feared the worst.

"It could mean that you're pregnant," the midwife said drily. Before they could react, she added to Natasha, "You're an orphan, aren't you."

"I... I guess so."

"I'd hate to think of parents who would raise their child so ignorant. Well. If you'd like to know for sure, I can use a level 3 View spell to take a look. It'll be 30 gold coins."

Natasha hesitated. Deanna said, "You... really think... she might be pregnant?"

"It's highly likely."

He couldn't be sure she wasn't lying just for the 30 gold, but it was more than worth the risk. He counted out the coins.

Before he could hand them over, Natasha reached out a hand to stop him. "Now wait a second. How can I be pregnant when I'm not fat?"

The midwife gave her a condescending smile as she snatched the money from Deanna. "The child wouldn't have grown that big yet. You _are_ ignorant." She sighed as she poured the coins into her purse, then ordered Natasha, "Lift up your dress." She didn't move. "For Iom's sake, girl, your husband's already seen all you've got, and if you have a baby I'm going to see it all anyway."

Natasha looked to him. He swallowed, uncomfortable with her relying on him for an answer. However, he was perfectly confident in the answer itself. "She's mostly right," he said. "But not on the last part. I'd be very happy to take you to a different midwife."

Natasha bit her lip a moment in thought. "Can I borrow your cloak?" He handed it to her, and she used it to cover her crotch while she disrobed.

When she was finished, the midwife nodded and laid her hands on her belly. Closing her eyes, she intoned, "View."

Over a minute passed in stillness. Deanna offered a silent prayer to Iom that she would find a baby. He knew from firsthand experience that Iom was not a god of fertility, but he was the only entity he knew to call on to give his wife what she so dearly wanted.

The midwife looked up, smiled - and there was no avarice in the smile. "Congratulations."

Deanna had a supportive hand on Natasha's shoulder, so he could feel her freeze at the same time as him. "You... you mean..." she stammered.

"You have a baby girl. Judging by her size, she's four months along, in fact."

Natasha's hand grabbed his tightly. "Oh, Deanna... my love... we did it."

"I... I know." He couldn't think of what to say.

"...Wait... four months? You said four months?" The midwife nodded in reply. "That's... that's almost as long as we've been..."

She stopped there, but Deanna knew what she meant. _All along... the whole time we've been working to help people, our baby girl was with us._

--

Deanna felt dazed as they headed back to the house they were staying at, their hands entwined. He was overjoyed, but also confused about exactly what this meant for them... what it was going to be like once the child was born. He glanced at Natasha and asked, "Why didn't you want to try another midwife?"

Natasha was smiling broadly. "I thought about it, and... if she wanted to take advantage of us, she wouldn't have been so rude. She's honest; that's important. Besides, I wanted to know right away." She tightened her grip on his hand, and laid her other hand on her belly. "I'm glad I did. Can you imagine? We've made another person."

He looked at her hand. "You can... feel her?"

"Not yet," she admitted. "But she's there."

Since both of his wife's hands were occupied, Deanna opened the door to the house, instead of waiting for her to lead the way as he usually would. The first thing he noticed when he stepped inside was the two dead bodies lying on the floor, knife wounds in the back and torso.

He pulled Natasha behind him, eyes darting to a far corner of the room, where he'd left his sword. Between it and him was a man dressed entirely in black fabric, with a mask that kept even his eyes mostly obscured.

"My apologies," the intruder said. "I didn't have time to dispose of the bodies before you returned."

"Natasha," Deanna said softly. "...run."

She didn't move. "I won't leave you."

"Oh, I see," the man in black seemed to smile beneath his mask. "You think I'm an enemy. Come now, Master Deanna. You should recognize me, and I'm sure you don't recognize the two dwarves I've slain."

At first Deanna had no idea what he was talking about, but then Natasha burst out, "You're the man who told us Prince Nick was captured - the one who saved Deanna when he was trapped in those caves!"

The man responded with a chuckle. "I'm flattered, my lady. My acquaintance with you was much more brief than my acquaintance with Master Deanna."

Deanna squinted. "I think... I remember you now. I saw you once, reporting to my brother... before the war. You were wearing different clothes, but your stature... your voice..."

"I'm sorry for our rudeness, sir," Natasha said, her voice containing more warmth and penitence than cold politeness. She stepped forward, extending her hand to him. "I'm so glad to meet you. What you did for Deanna was -"

"Do not touch me!" the man warned, moving into a defensive stance. Natasha stepped back, startled. "Forgive me, my lady, but I make it a habit to allow no one close enough to slip a dagger between my ribs. In any case, your gratitude is misplaced. What I did was under orders from General Hindel."

"I'm grateful to him, too, but -"

"Do not waste your words, lady Natasha."

His rebuff of Natasha's warm sentiments made the bile rise in Deanna's throat. Recalling the two dead dwarves, he demanded, "Who were they?"

The man shrugged. "The latest in a series of killers who have targeted you. Before now, I've managed to take care of them without disturbing your marital bliss."

_He's been... protecting us?_ "Why would you...?"

"General Hindel is dead," he answered simply. "Serving his brother is the only purpose I have left." Before either of them could form a response to that, he went on, "Again, I am sorry for having disturbed you. Since I have, however, allow me to suggest that you go to the capital."

Natasha blinked. "Why should we go there?"

"Let's just say you might find things there... interesting." He chuckled, hoisted up a corpse in each hand, and slipped past them to the doorway. "Then again, that might not entice either of you. Perhaps if I informed you that the fate of Iom might well depend on Master Deanna's arriving there soon?"

"Wait!" Natasha called as he stepped out. "You haven't even told us your name yet - and who's trying to kill us?"

"Many powerful people in Iom don't care for you, my lady. By the way," - he half turned back to them - "...what did the midwife tell you?"

Beaming, Natasha said, "We have a baby girl."

There was a pause. When Hindel's agent spoke again, Deanna heard a new strain in his voice. "That is... a great pleasure to hear. Take good care of the little child."

He moved to leave, but this time it was Deanna who cried out. "Wait, I..."

The man stopped, and Deanna struggled to find what to say. He felt ashamed of his moment of anger at this man who'd done so much for them, more so because Natasha had so obviously bore no anger at all for his offense. But more importantly, the man was a last remaining link to Hindel.

"Will we see you again?" he blurted out, and cringed at how foolishly he'd worded the question. "If we need to... ask you anything...?"

"If you go to the capital, you'll see me there." With that, the man was gone.

Deanna stared after him for a few moments. Then he turned to Natasha, taking hold of her arm. "Please... if something like that happens again... run when I tell you to run."

She shook her head. "I won't abandon you. Ever."

"Please, I... I can't stand even the thought of you dying. Think of the baby."

"I am thinking of the baby!" she snapped. "I want her to have a father when she's born! We have to stick together when these things happen, Deanna. That way, none of us will die."

"_...to have a father..." Is that what I'm going to be?_ He was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry... you're right." He felt warm tears running down his face.

Natasha's expression softened, and she touched his cheek. "What's wrong?"

In spite of himself, he sobbed. "I'm not going... to be a very good father. A year ago I couldn't even take care of myself... how can I..."

"Deanna..." She hugged herself to him. "Deanna... that's all changed. You're going to be a wonderful father; I know it. You're just confused and upset from all that just happened... the baby, someone trying to kill us, these dealings at the capital... You'll see, when she comes you'll know just what to do..."

He held her close, grateful for her comfort. She made him feel strong enough to need no comfort at all.


	4. Chapter 4: Thousands

- Chapter 4: Thousands -

Natasha sighed in contented weariness as Deanna lay down at her side, running his hand over her. "That was wonderful. ...Wonderful even compared to usual, I mean."

"Yes," he agreed, and kissed her on the shoulder. Natasha smiled; did it occur to him that this was their first time since his new hair trim? She had finally got the courage to ask him again about cutting away the hair that hid half his face, and he'd agreed. Sensing his reluctance, however, she'd suggested a partial trim, to ease him into it and give him a chance to decide whether he really could handle showing his whole face to the world. Even the partial trim, however, made kissing him noticeably easier.

Deanna cleared his throat and said in a confessional tone, "I... I'm pretty sure this isn't how twins are conceived."

"I know." By unspoken agreement, they'd been making love every few nights still, even though it was superfluous now that she was pregnant. She found that her urge to have him inside her was, if anything, stronger, and Deanna was always quite eager to satisfy that urge. Only the fatigue brought on by her pregnancy made her settle for a back rub on most nights.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of something stirring. "Oh!"

"What is it?"

"I think she's moving!" She reached her hands over her belly, which had become strikingly larger. "Hello... hello baby..."

Deanna sat up and half reached for her belly, looking for a spot not already taken by Natasha's hands. "Can... can I...?"

She shook her head sadly. "I can't feel her on the top... just inside. You can talk to her, though."

"I... I'm not good at talking."

"She's your daughter!" There was a silence. "Go on."

He hesitated. "What's her name?"

"...Well, I... I always thought we should name one of our children after my mother. Carla. Is that okay with you?"

He nodded. "It's a very pretty name." Slowly, he leaned over Natasha's belly and said in a soft voice, "Hello, Carla. This is..."

He paused there, and Natasha interjected, "If you introduce yourself by your given name, I'll kick you right in the stomach."

"This is... daddy." He blushed, but with a smile that made her heart throb almost painfully. "I'll talk to you more later, Carla." He sat back and looked at Natasha. "Maybe it would be better if the two of you went back to the others. I mean... we told them to wait several miles outside the capital because we aren't sure it'll be safe there. And that man didn't say you needed to come. Only me."

She shook her head. "I go where you go. Besides, people are out to kill us, remember? We'll be safer with you than with our helpers."

"...Maybe I shouldn't go at all."

After looking at him for a moment, she said, "You don't mean that. You heard what your brother's man said, and you believe him, don't you? It's sweet that you're worried about us, but... you can't keep us out of danger all the time."

"But there's our helpers to think of, too... I'm leaving them without a leader..."

"We'd have to take some time away, anyway; we've got a baby well on the way. They were probably expecting you to take a break." She lay back and closed her eyes. "Can we see your home when we get there? I want to see where you grew up."

"If you want. I don't think we'll be able to stay there, though. Someone's probably taken our house by now." She looked at him in surprise. "It's been half a year."

"You mean they would just -" She stopped, and closed her eyes again. "It doesn't matter, does it. We have our new home."

--

They reached the capital on midmorning of the next day. Deanna felt a strange touch of childhood nostalgia as they came to the streets where he'd lived most of his life; though it had been less than a year since he'd last seen them, he'd felt more change since leaving than he had in all the years he'd lived there. As they passed through, he noted the places he'd once played as a child, his old training quarters, historical buildings and avenues, and pointed them all out to Natasha.

After a while, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. "This seems like sort of a... run-down place for a general and his brother to be living in."

He nodded. "They gave Hindel new quarters at the palace, but he preferred to stay here. He didn't want his peers or Warderer to see me, and he didn't want to leave me by myself... so he stayed in our old home." He still felt a bit of sadness in speaking of his brother, but time and Natasha's presence had made the loss feel less terrible, and he knew the good he was doing for the people of Iom was redeeming the guilt.

A familiar voice called, "Hey, look who's back!" Deanna turned to see one of his old tormentors approach from an alley. He tried to remember his name, but could not.

"Hello," he mumbled, hoping he would leave them alone. He knew he could easily beat the young man in a fight, but his old antagonist was a part of his past. Much as his past paled before his present, it had not been entirely unhappy. For that, he felt a small measure of fondness for the young man; bloodying his nose would bring him no satisfaction. And even if it did not come to fisticuffs, the conversation would not be pleasant.

"As chatty as ever, eh, Dea old boy?" the young man said in a half laugh. "So where ya been? Chickened out from your mission to Cypress, and then too ashamed to come back? Hey, you know ya outta straighten out those guys hanging out at your house. They think that you're _the_ Deanna!"

He blinked. "What Deanna?"

"Some guy who killed King Warderer," the young man said, having apparently lost interest in the subject already. He idly ran a hand up and down Natasha's staff without gripping it. "Some people around here think of him as a hero. So who's the chick? Ya got a mage bodyguard to protect you?"

"Hands off," Natasha snapped, slapping his hand away.

"This is my wife," Deanna said, relaxing slightly as he realized his old tormentor probably wouldn't see much sport in giving him a beating all by himself.

"No foolin'! So that's what yah've been up to all this time. Findin' someone to mommy you, eh?" He turned to Natasha. "Hey, if you're really his wife, you can settle a question all of us in the neighborhood have been wondering about for years. Has Deanna here got an actual set of balls?"

Deanna felt a slap of guilt; somehow, he hadn't expected him to harass Natasha. He reached out to shove him away.

"That's a very interesting question," Natasha said in a matter-of-fact tone, making Deanna stop in surprise. "I'm sure you have many other questions you'd like to ask me, about Deanna, and about yourself, but I think I can answer them all with two little sentences: Deanna's a man now. You're still a boy."

She turned and walked away, Deanna following at her side. He did not turn around, but listened for the sound of footsteps; none came. Once they were a block or so away, he began, "Where did that -"

Natasha burst into a giggle. "I've been working on that little speech ever since you told me about those boys. It didn't come out sounding phony, did it?"

"To me it did. But that's because I know you," he answered. "You probably knocked him for a loop."

"Thanks. It felt good to say it." She studied him. "Did you hear what he said, though... about the people at your house?"

He nodded. "You'll help me explain, won't you... that I'm not a hero?"

"You are, though! You defeated Warderer and saved both Cypress and Iom!"

"And my brother was killed because I took my eyes off Warderer when you all found out that I'd been lying to you," he said bitterly.

Natasha stared at him a long minute in silence.

"You... Do you really think that? That it was your fault Hindel died?"

He realized he shouldn't have said something so terrible to her, but he still couldn't silence myself. "Wouldn't Hindel still be alive if I'd kept my eyes on Warderer like I was supposed to? Wouldn't he still be alive if he hadn't betrayed Iom to protect me?" Natasha couldn't answer. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to worry you, I... I know I'm making up for failing my brother by what we've been doing. It's just... I don't think anyone should be called a hero after doing... what I did. Not even if they redeem themselves. It just... it doesn't seem right. Besides, you did as much to defeat Warderer as me – probably more – and you didn't fail any responsibilities the way I did."

He sighed, and they moved on. Natasha said, "We'll talk about this later, right?"

"Yes." He didn't feel like talking about it - not when they had better things to talk about, anyway - but she would worry if they didn't. He didn't want her to think he hadn't put Hindel's death behind him. He'd done that long ago, and though he wasn't punishing himself for what happened to his brother, he had accepted that it had been his fault.

Looking up, he realized they had arrived at his old home. Waiting outside were two Iom soldiers. One of them spoke up, "Sergeant Deanna?"

"Yes?"

"An honor, sir. We've been making sure your house is well-taken care of. Historical home, you know. You and your, ah, companion are welcome to stay here if you'd like, but your presence is requested at the palace. They're expecting you."

Deanna nodded. "Alright. Where do we go there?"

"Guest quarters in the east wing, sir. Ask if anyone's seen a small three-legged creature running around."

It sounded a bit clandestine, but that was a good sign that his brother's agent was involved. "We'll go there right away."

"Yes, sir. An honor, sir," the guard repeated.

Deanna stopped. _I... I can't just let that pass. It's wrong._ "I... I'm not a hero."

"Sir?"

"I... let my brother... die."

"Not intentionally," Natasha clarified anxiously, giving Deanna a look of reproof.

The guard fidgeted. "We all sympathize for General Hindel's death, sir, but there's no shame in that for you. The law of the land is still that if one is unable to protect oneself, one deserves to die."

Outrage snapped through Deanna. "By that law I should have died, not Hindel!"

"Come on, Deanna; let's go," Natasha said, pulling at his arm.

He blushed and let her pull him away. The guard watched them go, his expression confused.

"I... I'm sorry I lost my temper like that," Deanna said. He led the way now, as only he knew how to get to the palace. "It's just... it's all twisted and wrong. 'If one is unable to protect oneself, one deserves to die.' I used to believe that; then you and Mayfair and the others showed me it was wrong. Now I see it's worse than wrong... it's an excuse for when people die because of our incompetence. The only reason Hindel died... was because he protected me. He was a hero, not a weakling."

"I know," she reassured him, stroking his arm. "We'll get it all straightened out once we get to the palace. It wouldn't do any good for you to yell at that guard."

He nodded in agreement, and bent his head to kiss her sweet lips.

--

"Wow," Natasha said, taking in the palace. "Pretty impressive."

Deanna nodded. He himself was impressed to see again the parades of colors and structural adornments, the towers stretching far higher than necessary. "It was built when the Iom empire was at its height, some two hundred years ago."

To reduce the risk of his being recognized, they took a side entrance. Having never been inside the palace before, Deanna shared in Natasha's amazement at the polished walls and rich carpets. Whispering their appreciation to each other made the time it took to find the guest quarters easy. Once there, they asked after the three-legged creature and were directed to an empty room.

"Good morning," a voice said, and Hindel's agent stepped out from a closet. "It was good of you to come. One or two of your hosts should arrive in a couple minutes."

Deanna watched him, uncertain. "What's going on?"

"Since General Hindel's death, I've kept in guarded contact with a few of his lieutenants. Two in particular have made it clear that they will gladly give their service to any brother of General Hindel. I suspect you may need a few people whose loyalty you can be absolutely sure of for the task that awaits you; these are two men who fit the bill."

"What task?"

The man chuckled. "One thing at a time, Master Deanna."

Natasha stepped forward. "You still haven't told us your name, sir."

"I'm afraid I can't reveal my true name," the man said in a sombre tone. "Not even to Master Deanna. If you wish to call me by name, call me Dust."

"You can't trust Deanna...?"

"It's not a matter of trusting him, lady Natasha." He seemed about to say something more, when the door opened and two figures came in. One was a man so short that Deanna at first took him to be a tall dwarf, but the lack of any beard on the many folds of his face suggested otherwise; Deanna had seen few elder dwarfs without beards, and those few had shaved it away from impressive and becoming chins. This man's chin was certainly not that. The second figure was, Deanna saw with some uneasiness, a burly lizardman wearing a thick leather vest over his impressive frame.

The short man turned and looked up at Deanna's face. "By Iom... The very splitting image." He turned and offered a hand to "Dust". "My apologies for doubting you, sir. That's Hindel's brother, no more doubt." Noticing that his proffered hand had not been taken, he added, "Oh right, no touching, eh? Sorry."

Deanna whispered to Natasha, "Do I really look _that_ much like Hindel?"

"Not exactly," she answered. "I think he just meant... the similarities really are striking. I mean, I didn't get the best look at your brother, but..."

"My name issss Jengh," the lizardman said, extending his hand to Deanna. He hesitated for a moment before taking it, trying not to let his nervousness show as they shook. "It issss an honor to meet you. Most leaderssss scorn lizardmen asss brute forsssse or even cheap fodder. Your brother treated ussss with ressspect."

Dust chuckled. "Well spoken, Jengh." The lizardman flashed him a glare.

"Thank you, sir," Deanna put in. "I... I know my brother, and I'm sure if he gave you respect, it was because you earned it."

"Not ssssir. Lieutenant Jengh."

Deanna lost his assurance. "But... you outrank me..."

"The old order in Iom hasss fallen. Your mean far more than your old rank."

The short man stepped forward and offered his hand in turn. "I'm Lieutenant Frecor. It's a relief to see your brother lives on, in a sense. He was the best general the Iom empire ever saw, full certain."

Regaining his composure, Deanna shook the man's hand firmly. "Thank you, si- lieutenant. I don't really know much about any other generals, but I always believed he was the best." He put his arm around Natasha. "And this is my wife, Natasha."

"Who is already with child," Dust added, to Deanna's embarrassment.

Frecor's eyes lit up. "Is that the truth? Well, there's a head start, duty doing."

"What?" Natasha said, her brow furrowed, but Frecor seemed not to hear.

Deanna spoke up, "Could... could you all kindly explain why we were called here?"

"For the banquet," Frecor answered. "Nearly everyone worth their fancy coat is going to be there, and with you being so important to Iom, it figures you'd want -"

Dust held up a hand. "They need some explanation first, Frecor. Listen. Since King Warderer's death, two major parties have been struggling to control Iom. The first group supports crowning Warderer's heir. The other group, which includes all your brother's old allies, rejects Warderer's line. For the moment, our group has majority control. The other group is mostly in hiding. The actual rulership of Iom is temporarily in the hands of one Edwin, but we are seeking a more suitable figure for the post." He shrugged. "Therein lies the problem. Until we find an actual king, this remains a transitional government. The opposition has a person who can wear a crown, and that may sway the public to their side."

Deanna nodded in understanding. "You want to have a hero to... to wave around in front of the public, to match their king."

"It's... a bit more complicated than that, shall we say? But that's the basic idea, yes. You've done a great deal of good for Iom these past few months, Master Deanna."

"And what good will I do by serving political interests?" he demanded.

Dust chuckled. "You misunderstand. I asked you here to save your country from anarchy or civil war. You decide on the best way to do that, and the three of us - and Edwin as well - will support you on whatever your decision may be. However, as far as the support of the majority of Iom's officials goes, that will be won only if you aid in expelling Warderer's line from the throne." He shrugged. "It's a suggestion. Besides, if I haven't mentioned, it is the supporters of Warderer's line who have been trying to kill you and your wife. They want to avenge their fallen king."

Deanna rubbed a knuckle across his head, which was starting to hurt. "I don't think I can make decisions like that. If you give me a king, I'll support him, but... You're asking me to command. I'm not a commander of government." He glanced to Natasha. She stood beside him, still supportive, but clearly with no intention of saying anything.

"Perhapssss not by experienssss," Jengh offered. "But your work these past monthssss proves you have the nature of a commander, yesss? That isss why you should come to the banquet; to gain the needed knowledge and experienssss."

He hesitated. "I suppose... it's what Hindel would have done... for his sake, I might help. Could I discuss it with my wife?"

"Of course, of course," Frecor said with enthusiasm. "The banquet's not for a few days. If you'd like, you can stay in one of these guest rooms until then. Lord Jared's in charge of the running of the castle, and he was a friend of your brother's, as it happens. He'll see to it you have everything you desire, etiquette's command."

He turned to Natasha. "Would that be okay with you?"

She nodded, smiling. "I'd like that."

He was about to accept when a thought occurred to him. "If... If you're thinking to make us feel obligated for the free board... we'll have to refuse."

The two lieutenants looked shocked by the suggestion. Dust intervened, "Be at ease, Master Deanna. All we want from you is for you to help Iom, the way your brother would have, and you're already doing that. The last thing any of us would want is to pressure you into a specific course. We are at your orders."

Deanna was silent a moment more, than nodded.

"Good, good," Frecor said. "I'll go summon Lord Jared."

"I have my dutiesss," Jengh said. "If I may alssso be excused?"

Deanna was beginning to notice Jengh's unusually good control over his lizardman's lisp, and it took him a minute to realize the lieutenant was talking to him. He gave a belated nod.

Once the two of them had left, a wave of relief passed through him. Natasha took hold of his hand and asked, "Are you okay? You looked a little nervous."

"Not half as nervous as those two," Dust remarked with amusement. "It's been a long time since I've heard Jengh slip into that lisp."

"I'm fine," Deanna said. He looked to Dust. "Why should they be nervous?"

"They only know three things about you, Master Deanna. One, you are General Hindel's brother. Two, you killed Warderer. Three, you have been more instrumental in our nation's recovery than our transitional government. Everything else," - he smiled - "...well, your brother did share it with those two, but how are they to believe it now?" He opened a window and stepped onto the sill. "One last thing. Outside of lieutenants Jengh and Frecor, no one in the capital knows of my existence. Do not mention me in front of anyone besides them, not even Edwin. I can better protect you that way."

Once he was gone, Deanna and Natasha sat down on the bed, almost in synch. "Should we trust him?" Deanna wondered aloud.

"Deanna! He saved your life!"

"Only once that we can be sure of, and that was... under my brother's orders. What if his allegiance is different now?"

"Your brother wouldn't have sent him on a mission to help you and a bunch of Cypressians if he didn't trust him to look after you."

"Maybe Hindel had some hold on him," he returned, rubbing his head again.

She sighed, and put her arms around him. "Deanna... I know you have a hard time trusting people..."

"He doesn't even _seem_ trustworthy. His manner..."

"You can't trust appearances. I'll admit he's secretive, but I think it's because he's afraid of getting involved. Of getting to know people. It's simpler for him to just keep following his general's last orders..." Her voice slowed, a familiar tone of warm sadness breaking through. "Don't ask me what it is, but I feel that we can trust him."

_It isn't trust I hear in your voice. It's sympathy._ His heart swelling with affection, he put his arms around her and kissed her deeply.

When their mouths broke, her eyes were dazed with happiness. It made Deanna feel strangely proud of himself, that a woman like her could love him so. "Maybe... maybe you're right, then," he said. "It's just... so much about this makes me... nervous. Like that lizardman -" He stopped, and blushed. "What were their names again?"

"Jengh and Frecor."

"Jengh. Frecor," he repeated. _I've got to learn to remember people's names._ "Lieutenant Jengh... he worries me. I didn't know my brother had promoted a lizardman."

Natasha frowned. "Is there something wrong with lizardmen?"

"It's hard to explain, but..." He took a minute to collect his thoughts. "Lizardmen think differently from us. I'd say they're capable of gentleness, even compassion, but... they seem to have some need for violence. I used to have two lizardmen in my squad. I had to ask my brother to transfer them to another unit; they were too much for me to handle. I mean, I couldn't handle any of my men, but they started the most fights."

"Maybe they felt oppressed, like Jengh was saying."

"I don't think so," he said softly. "I can believe that in the army lizardmen are treated as brute force, but I don't think they're oppressed. And I remember one time, the two in my squad got in a fight with each other. One of them smashed a bench with the other's head. The next day they were talking to each other, joking, like nothing happened. I think... I think they're so used to violence that it doesn't mean much to them. There's just something different about them."

"Maybe that's just your experience," she offered.

"I hope so. I'm worried about what we're getting into anyway."

Natasha began rubbing his shoulders. "Then don't do it. We can go back to our aid workers tomorrow."

"I can't. If what they told us is true, there could be civil war. All the work we've been doing will be ruined."

"But can we really stop that here, anyway? This sounds like just a bunch of stuffy officials. Wouldn't it help more if we led our teams in convincing people not to fight?"

"I... I don't know. Shouldn't we at least stay for the banquet, to see if there's anything we can do?"

"...Let's talk about it later." She kissed him briefly. "We've got a few days."

--

"Are you ready?" Deanna called through the door, just loud enough that she might hear.

"Not yet... almost," Natasha called back.

He nodded, and began toying with the edge of his cape while he waited. Like the rest of his outfit, it had been provided by Lord Jared for the banquet. Deanna had chosen loose-fitting dark pants, a bold maroon silk tunic, and a long cape that he hoped made his shoulders look broader than they actually were. The tailor had insisted on adding trimming and such. Looking in the mirror, Deanna had been astonished to see how good he managed to look. The fact that he'd lost the slouch in his shoulders allowed him to wear fancy clothes much better than he would have been able to a year ago.

He had no idea what Natasha had chosen to wear. She had come up with the idea of pretending they were still courting each other for the evening, given that their real courtship had been not very traditional. With that play act in mind, they'd spent the day, and the previous night, in separate rooms. It was a pleasant idea, but Deanna couldn't quite shake his anxiousness. Big events like this still made him nervous, even though he felt sure he could handle talking to people now. More than that, however, he was still worried about whether or not he could do anything to keep Iom from civil war.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the latch on Natasha's door sliding. He looked up, and Natasha stepped out.

He could not help but stare. The dress was far grander than anything he'd seen her wear before, layered with a pattern of soft blues and pinks and an elegant use of trimming. The edge of the skirt dragged along the floor, and she held one side up with a delicate hand. The blossoms of three flowers adorned her breast, and locks of her hair were done up with ribbons. And in the midst of all the grandeur peeped out the gentle face he'd come to know better than his own voice.

"How do I look?" she asked with a bashful smile.

It took him a moment to get past the swelling in his throat. "I've never imagined anyone could be so beautiful."

She blushed. "Thank you. I know you wouldn't say something like that unless it were true." She approached him with some coyness. "You look pretty dashing yourself... but you've always been very handsome. I see you brought your sword."

He glanced down at it. "I want to have something to protect you just in case something happens. Lord Jared said it would be alright."

"You thi-" She broke off with a gasp, clutching at her womb.

Instinct moved him to throw an arm supportively around her shoulders, and his other hand to her belly. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry; it's just... she's moving again," she said with hushed excitement. "She hadn't moved in almost two days. When I saw you, I felt so... relieved. I guess she must have felt that."

"Relieved?" he echoed, puzzled.

"I don't know the word for it. It's just, we've been apart for a whole day, and I was feeling so alone. Just to be with you again, it feels..." At a loss for words, she stopped. Glancing down at her belly, where his hand rested beside hers, she smiled. "I guess I ruined the whole courtship mood with this, didn't I? Anyway, we should go."

"Promise me the last dance?"

"All the dances, if you want them."

He shook his head. "I want you to find friends here. You shouldn't have to... feel alone when I'm not around."

"It's not like that," she said, leaning against him. "I feel like before I got to know you, even when I was with my friends, I was really alone. You're the only person who really likes me for who I am now; there was my family before, but I wasn't the same person then. Dawn, Jane, and Vyra were good friends, and I'm sure I'll find more friends like them, but... it'll never be as good company as when I'm with you."

Deanna was silent a moment, entranced by her nearness, her beauty. "I'm hoping you're wrong about that."

"Well, even if I am..." She hugged him close. "...don't you go anywhere, okay?"

The very suggestion bewildered him.

--

The sumptuousness of the banquet was astonishing. Deanna had seen far better, most notably at Prince Nick's coronation, but the wealth displayed was a sharp contrast to the poverty he'd seen everywhere else in Iom. There was twice as much food stacked on long tables than the attendants of the banquet could possibly eat, all was decorated in rich clothes and gold ornaments, and most of the people wore outfits far more lavish than his or Natasha's.

"This doesn't feel right," he said. "How can they enjoy all of... this... with people all over Iom suffering?" Natasha nodded in full agreement.

"There you two are!" Lieutenant Frecor, dressed in full military attire(though less gaudy than most of those present), pushed his way through to them. "I'm sure Lord Jared'll be happy to happy to be your guide, but he'll probably be busy for a few minutes, best guess. So if you like, I can introduce you to everyone, honor being mine?"

Deanna hesitated. He preferred Frecor to Lord Jared as his guide, but it occurred to him that, if all the guests were introduced to "the man who killed King Warderer", he would inevitably be roped into a new role. "Alright. But don't tell them who I am."

"Of course, of course. You'll just be my newest, up-and-coming sergeant."

"Good." He turned to Natasha. "Do you want to go off on your own?"

She grimaced. "I couldn't. I don't know anyone else here."

He flushed at his unintended rudeness. "Sorry. Well... to tell the truth, I'd rather have you with me anyway, if you would..." She smiled and put her arm in his.

They were introduced, mostly one at a time, to over a dozen people. There were nobles, officials, priests of Iom, war heroes, his brother and General Solo's former lieutenants, and even one of General Barbara's. Deanna felt sure he would not remember even half their names. Between introductions, he listened in on other conversations. He wasn't accustomed to paying attention to people who weren't talking directly to him, but for the sake of Iom's people he needed information.

He could not help but be somewhat discouraged. On the one hand, most of them seemed to have genuine good intentions. They understood that Warderer had put his own ambitions above the good of the nation, that his actions had affected the common man as much as themselves, and they wanted to prevent that from happening again. Few of them, however, had done anything major to change the country's situation besides securing a power hold over the supporters of Warderer's line. He supposed he shouldn't have expected anything more of the military leaders, but for the others, there was no answer to his disappointment.

The one person there who impressed him was a woman he overheard talking about redistributing the surpluses of grain that had turned up in the capital and a few nearby towns. She was arguing that Iom's internal economy needed to be restarted after Warderer's neglect. Deanna didn't really grasp the concept, but her obvious intent to actually do something prompted him to ask Frecor who she was.

"Margo. Scribe to the minister of prosperity. You'll hear her voice a lot. Nobody talks people into moving like her. But her position's clerical, no real power."

Once Frecor was done introducing them, Deanna managed to sneak Natasha away from the main crowds. "I'm sorry," he said, observing her weary expression. "That must have been really boring for you."

"It's important, though."

"Still," he said, trying an encouraging smile. "You must be ready for dancing."

"Sure. But you'll have to give me the first one. I don't know how to dance."

Deanna fidgeted. "I don't, either."

Her eyes widened slightly. "You don't?"

"Who would I have danced with?"

"Good point." After a moment, she smiled. "Well, this should be interesting."

Natasha grabbed his hand and pulled him to the dance floor. He muttered, "This is probably going to end with a lot of bruises."

"Come on, dancing isn't _that_ hard. You just move, and I'll move with you, okay?"

He had his doubts, but did as she said. Somehow he felt assured that if they should somehow collide, he would catch her before she fell.

After a couple initial stumbles, he found they were getting the hang of it. Slow dancing began to strike him as a bit of a ridiculous activity in its simplicity, but he was happy to be holding Natasha and gazing upon her sublime beauty. They danced in silence for a minute or two, before he began sharing his reaction to the people at the banquet. "If I become a sort of leader here... I might be able to put Margo in a post where she could do more good." He sighed. "What really bothers me, though... more than how few people like Margo are here, more than the fact that Edwin himself was always too busy for Frecor to introduce us to him... is that almost no one is talking about who the next king should be. Even when we mentioned it to people, they didn't seem hopeful that they could figure out who the next in line is."

"I... hadn't thought of it that way," As always, Natasha didn't sound too interested; her mind was mainly on the baby, he suspected. "You think they're making this a permanent government?"

"I don't know... I just worry. It would mean Jengh and Frecor lied to us. And I don't know if people will adjust to a king who doesn't have royal blood..."

A loud knocking interrupted him. Looking around, he found all eyes were on a podium at the middle of the room, where stood none less than temporary ruler Edwin. Deanna had to admit that he was a modest-looking man: medium height, easy stature, and an expression that seemed earnest without being intense.

Edwin cleared his throat. "My friends and countrymen, thank you for coming here this evening. I called you here so that I could put one or two items of concern before you, and so that we could discuss the various matters concerning our nation. However, since then there has been some news which supersedes all of that."

He took a pause, and Deanna felt some unease.

"As you all know, since taking charge of Iom, there is nothing I have wished for so much as for someone to take that authority off my hands. The weight of it is heavy, and I have never felt up to the task. It now appears that my feelings were right." His face became glum. "Word of the general state of Iom has reached me. Apparently the effects of my relief efforts have not extended beyond the capital and its immediate surroundings. The nation as a whole is no better for my leadership. This report gives me no ideas for a change in my policies, but has only reinforced my determination that the time for me to relinquish my rule of Iom is now."

A dismayed gasp spread like a roar through the crowd, but before any protests could arise, Edwin smiled and continued, "There remains only the question of who shall fill my place, but the answer to that is obvious. One man has already been doing far more for the good of Iom than I have ever proved capable of. He liberated us from Warderer's mad ambitions, and these past few months he has brought the greater part of Iom out of the depths of poverty and despair that I could not lift it from."

Deanna's legs trembled so much that he feared he might fall. He felt Natasha clutching his arm, heard her softly protest, "No..." He took her hand, offering his reassurance.

_This can't be... has he gone mad? We never even discussed this; how can he... unless... a trap to make me step forward, reveal myself?_

Edwin's next words dispelled that theory. "The wonderful news I have to share, my friends and countrymen, is that this man is with us tonight, and has already been sharing in our company and repast." He looked directly at Deanna, extended a hand towards him. "Deanna, brother of the late General Hindel, and new ruler of Iom, will you come forward and introduce yourself to your people?"

--

Natasha half expected her husband to collapse at that moment. She herself could feel the room start to spin around her, and it was a relief to feel Deanna's arms bring her swaying to a halt. "Are you alright?" he asked.

It had only been a momentary dizziness, but she saw the opportunity to rescue Deanna from having to speak. Affecting continued bleariness in her eyes, she muttered weakly, "I... I'm okay..."

He looked up. "Lord Jared, excuse me to them, but I have to take her back to our room."

The answering voice was unmoved. "You must say _something_ to your people, sir Deanna. The servants can take care of her for a few minutes."

Deanna hesitated, but she could see in his eyes that he knew he had no choice. She felt herself being given to unfamiliar hands. Keeping up her act, she reached for Deanna and groaned his name. It was visibly painful for him to take his eyes off her as he walked away.

She was worried that he might outright refuse the offer of rulership, or something even more rash. To her relief, he merely thanked the attendants for their efforts and said there were a few issues he needed to look into before he could be sure he could take on the rule of Iom. He apologized for any confusion, and asked to be excused so that he could tend to his wife. Blessedly, they let him go.

Deanna brought her back to the room and began laying her on the bed. She smiled at him, "It's okay. I was pretending." She was about to explain when Lieutenants Jengh and Frecor entered, followed by Edwin. She shot to her feet.

"Are you all insane? You -"

Deanna held a hand in front of her face. She felt thankful a moment later, realizing he had stopped her from saying something she would immediately regret, as was her habit. _But... it's strange. He's usually not that self-assured. It reminds me of..._

_...of when he's in battle._

"Why didn't we discuss this before?" Deanna demanded of them.

"Forgive ussss," Jengh said with a bow. He and Frecor turned to glare at Edwin. "We did not plan to even ask you to rule at this early date, much less publicly announce it."

Edwin looked at the four angry faces about him in confusion. "But... Lord Jared told me everything had been cleared..."

"Idiot! You would impose upon the hero of the realm without even exchanging two words with him first? Presumptuous -" He broke off with a snarl, and smashed his fist into Edwin's face. Edwin bounced off the wall and fell unconscious, blood running across his face. Natasha could not hold back a gasp. Deanna retreated a step, coming to stand protectively in front of her, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Without even seeing Deanna's reaction, Jengh seemed hit by instant regret. Not looking at him, he said, "I apologize, ssssir Deanna. It enraged me... that he would put you in ssssuch a posssition. He issss not injured, I assssure you."

"Don't ever hit someone like that again," Deanna ordered.

Jengh bowed. "Yesss, sir. I will keep that in mind when we speak with Lord Jared about this."

"I don't understand why it was considered to begin with. I'm not of royal blood."

"Well, royal blood might not be available," Frecor explained. "We didn't tell you this before because we didn't think you were ready for it. Guess now's the time, all choice taken." He sighed and grabbed a chair to sit in. "You'll be thinking of King Aaron's line, I expect. Well, all his children were killed after he was dethroned. We expect he has other relations, but the records of his lineage are nowhere to be found. Warderer must have had them destroyed or -"

"Or hidden in a secret place?" Natasha interrupted, a sudden thought flashing into her head. "From which Prince Nick recovered them during the war, and then brought them back to Cypress?"

With everyone staring at her, she dived into the pile of her and Deanna's things, heart pounding with excitement. "Natasha, what...?"

"Those misplaced papers of Prince Nick's, Deanna," she said, drawing out her magic book and pulling the papers out from between the pages. "They're mainly lists of names, and I think I saw 'Aaron' somewhere in there. It's just a guess, but take a look..."

He took the papers and looked over them. Jengh, reading over his shoulder, announced, "This is King Aaron's family tree. Where did you get it?"

"It was an accident."

"A very lucky accident, Iom's blessings," Frecor remarked. "Of course, if you want, no one has to know about those papers. I think everyone would be very happy to have Deanna as king, hero's reign and all."

"We have to stop that from happening," Deanna said. He looked up. "Natasha... you're right, we can use this to find out who the rightful king is. We've got to crown him... before a war begins."


	5. Chapter 5: see inside for title

**Part 2: Diplomacy**

"When you have to kill a man, it costs nothing to be polite." - Winston Churchill

- Chapter 5: Some Reflections on Past Social Events -

The sharp, piercing rays of the sun turned soft and radiant as they passed through the 12-foot high windows of the royal bedroom, pleasantly waking Nick from his slumber. He took a deep breath, savoring the feel of the soft mattress beneath him, the warm blankets layers atop him, the smooth sheets wrapped around him, and most of all, Mayfair stirring beside him.

"Good morning, my queen," he said, enjoying simply being able to say those words.

"Good morning," Mayfair returned, getting out from the bed and going to the dresser.

Nick allowed himself to lay back and watch her. He really was blessed to have her as his wife, he realized. One of the advantages of being king. Were it not for the fact that his wife would serve as queen, and that Mayfair was the best fit for that position, he would never have been able to win her. Every desirable attribute that could be had in a man, he had in abundance, but he could not give her love. And that was all she wanted. Which was natural enough, he supposed, though it was hard to empathize with. Even before losing his capacity to love, he'd never felt the need for a wife who would love him.

Thankfully, Mayfair's love for Cypress mattered more to her than a chance at personal love, and she consented to serve Cypress as queen. His gaining her hand in marriage was a happy consequence of that. Mayfair was unshakably dignified, cuttingly intelligent, bold, modest, understanding, and beautiful. Even now, simply watching her brush her long hair, still in her nightgown, made his loins stir. He immediately stifled it, however; he had work to do. Besides, she deserved better than to have to tend to his desires every hour of the day. He experienced the pleasures of her body once nearly every night; to ask more than that would be greedy and unjust.

As he slipped from the warmth of the bed and began pulling on his clothes, Mayfair announced in a flat tone, "It's late."

"What's late?"

"My... maternal cycle." There was a raised note at the end of her answer, as though she wasn't sure he would know what she meant.

Nick stopped dressing for a moment. "Are you certain?"

"I would not have said anything if I wasn't."

He nodded. "I'll arrange for a midwife to examine you every two weeks. Let me know if anything else happens."

There was no sense in getting excited yet; just because it was late didn't necessarily mean she was pregnant. And the more calmly he spoke of the matter, the less likely she would be to lose her own quietude.

He finished dressing quickly, rang the second of the bellropes beside the bed, and as he passed Mayfair on the way out, told her, "I'll have breakfast sent up for you. Remember that we have a meeting before noon."

They used to breakfast together, but Nick had noticed that Mayfair found the meal awkward when they shared it alone - as they always did when they got up so early. Much as he delighted in her company, he preferred to avoid causing her discomfort.

Perhaps guilt played a small part in that. Since their marriage, he had come to question if it had been more out of desire for her that he had proposed than out of his responsibility to provide Cypress with the ideal queen. In practical terms, it didn't matter: the fact that Mayfair was the best queen Cypress could have hoped for was alone sufficient reason to marry her. The only concern was Mayfair learning of his possessive feelings for her(it would disgust her, and rightfully so), and Nick was confident he could keep them under the lid. Still, he couldn't help but feel guilty that he had benefited so well from doing his duty, when Mayfair only suffered from doing hers.

The servants laid out breakfast for him downstairs, and he ate heartily, his mind turning over the current situation in the world. Though it was not certain yet, the possibility that Mayfair might be bearing his heir made it urgent that he secure Cypress from potential threats. A war on home ground would place his infant heir at risk.

The newest nation on the playing field was Guardiana. It was critical that he keep them from making contact with the other nations in the region, in part because it gave Cypress exclusive access to Guardiana's trading and military assistance, but also for their own good. His first-hand familiarity with Guardiana during the Cypress civil war was enough to convince him that they were not ready for the ruthless political and economic dealings that were the norm in this part of the world. Better for Cypress, and Cypress alone, to deal fairly with Guardiana - an ally who would truly trust him would be more useful in the long run than any advantage he could steal from them.

For that same reason, Queen Anri's lack of an heir was a troubling matter. The queen's apparent refusal to even select a husband was mystifying. There was no way he could reasonably approach Her Majesty on such a delicate topic, however, and none left in the Cypress royal family that could be offered to her in marriage. For the moment, the best hope seemed to be that Guardiana's officials would find a way to keep the kingdom from falling into chaos upon her death.

His father, of course, had seen the problem as an opportunity to quietly absorb Guardiana into Cypress. But Nick was not prepared for the consequences of governing another people. Besides the dozens of unique problems he was sure Guardiana carried, he doubted the Guardianans would remain satisfied with their loss of independence, no matter how agreeable the initial absorption might be. And in truth, not all Guardianans were as naive as his father surmised them to be. Nick had made particular note of that at the celebration of his coronation.

--

Nick was leaning against a remote wall of the ballroom, taking a minute to observe all the attendants. As he sipped a glass of thin wine, a familiar dwarf approached him. The king smiled. "Hello there, Scavenger."

Ruce scowled up at him. "I've told you to stop using that foolish codename."

"As I recall, it was you who came up with it. And insisted on its use."

"We were kids then, Ni- Your Majesty," Ruce snapped. "We've both outgrown those sorts of games."

"Interesting," Nick laughed slightly. He held his glass at arm's length, staring at it as he tipped it around in his hand. "We were kids then? It was less than a year ago that we planned our adventure."

Ruce stretched up on his toes to plant his palm against the base of Nick's glass, halting his fiddling. "Enough with the carefree act, Your Majesty. My father's concerned about you."

The king obligingly removed the grin from his face and said in a more serious tone, "It would please me if you were to continue calling me Nick."

"Not today. Today I want a word with the King of Cypress."

He sighed and adjusted himself against the wall. "What's the trouble?"

"That stunt you pulled - leaving for Iom without the Guardiana army."

"Surely I can be forgiven for my eagerness to put an end to the threat that killed my father and embroiled Cypress in a civil war. Besides, it worked well enough, didn't it? Queen Anri did not complain."

"That's true." Ruce paused to take a few nuts from his pocket and pop them into his mouth. "Not everyone at court is as laid-back as Her Majesty, though. You know Lowe would defend you to the ends of the earth, Your Majesty, but Ken and my father aren't as familiar with you. To be frank, Ken doesn't trust you, and hasn't since he learned you were actually the rightful King of Cypress. You're making him and my father very nervous with this unexplained behavior, Your Majesty. Need I inform you that both of them have a very strong sway over Queen Anri?"

King Nicholas sipped at his wine. "What do you want me to do?"

"It's not my place to ask you to do anything, Your Majesty. What I _recommend_ you do is either stop playing your own game, or at least tell us what the rules are. You acted completely contrary to our expectations and desires when you left for Iom early. How is a man like Ken supposed to know that the next surprise you throw won't be a knife at our throats?"

_"...playing your own game..." He doesn't believe that I was simply impatient, then. _He smiled gently at Ruce. "The things I do are always for the good of Cypress and her allies. You know that." He took another sip of wine. "To be honest, my friend, I'm not sure you'd even understand all of my plans for our common good, much less accept their necessity."

"Try me."

The king considered. Ruce seemed to sincerely want to help. However, he could not ignore the possibility that his assessment of Ken and Luke's attitudes was exaggerated, a bluff to use for pumping him for information. After all, both Ken and Luke had seemed perfectly cordial when he spoke to them. And if he explained why he'd left without the Guardiana army, would Ruce accept that he'd played the entire nation of Guardiana like a piece on a chess board?

He bowed his head slightly. "I apologize for my reckless behavior. In the interest of our friendship with your nation, I'll strive to be more open with Guardiana about my intentions. But allow me to keep just this one secret."

Ruce stared for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't understand why you think you need to do this, Your Majesty. We realize that Cypress benefited from your defeating Woldol as much as us, but Guardianans still credit you with sacrificing your right arm to save Queen Anri. Our nation adores you almost as much as my father's old friend, Max. Why do you think you need to hide your motives from us?"

"Ah yes, Max. What happened to him, again?"

Ruce was unfazed. "He sacrificed himself to stand eternal vigil over Dark Dragon. Is that what you're doing, Your Majesty? Holding your sword against the tide of evil, refusing to share your struggles with anyone, standing vigil alone?"

There was a long pause. "...If I am, it's because that is my duty."

"Confound it, Your Majesty, we're supposed to be your allies," Ruce scowled, and stalked off.

--

He'd only been annoyed, though, not outraged - as a fierce patriot like him would be if he were to know how he'd played them, regardless of the fact that it had been for the good of both Cypress and Guardiana. Nick knew he had made the right decision in not telling him. Still, Ruce had a point; if the alliance with Guardiana was to fully blossom, he couldn't condescend to them on every issue.

At least the less ephemeral issues of their alliance were shaping up. The hammering out of the finer details of their trade agreement had gone without major dispute, and the results were highly beneficial to both nations. They had already worked out such issues as border regulations and exchanges of scholarly knowledge. And he had begun an exchange of letters with Queen Anri, which he hoped would, among other things, relieve any potential concern that he wasn't being open with her.

Nick finished his breakfast just as Gyan came down. "Why didn't you ring for me, Nick?"

He handed a plate of eggs to Gyan as he got up. "Mayfair doesn't like you in the room when she's just woken up."

"So? The same is true of you," Gyan grinned.

"I know," Nick said wearily, and headed up to the library. Gyan followed him.

"Hey... that was a joke, Nick. What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I just wish Mayfair wasn't so unhappy. There's nothing either of us can do about that." The library door made a soft squeak as he opened it, echoing down the empty halls. "Right now I'm trying to piece together a solution to Cypress's foreign affairs. Emild is especially a problem."

"It isn't that bad, is it? You just entertained some emissaries from Emild."

King Nicholas pulled out a book of magic and sat down with it. Aside from the two of them, the library was empty. "The emissaries agreed to the military alliance we had drawn up, pending final approval by King Ian. But they refused to consider a trading agreement. Said they weren't qualified to even discuss such a thing."

Gyan raised an eyebrow. "Emild sends you people to discuss terms, and doesn't even bother to include someone versed in trading?"

The king nodded. "That makes King Ian either highly incompetent, or underhanded. Possibly both. I think the only conclusion we can draw is that those emissaries were merely a delaying tactic. King Ian is trying to avoid negotiations with Cypress for as long as he can."

"Which would mean he's up to something."

"Yes. Either that, or he's a horrendous procrastinator." He flipped a page in his book. "This isn't the first time my suspicions have been raised concerning His Majesty. Richard surmised that, after Gordon's murdering and convincingly impersonating his father, King Ian has become rather paranoid."

"I remember."

"I think it's time I took action on the matter. I thought if I left the play in Emild's hands, King Ian might become more cordial. Obviously that's not the case, so I'll have to send the emissaries to him instead."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? If King Ian really is paranoid, you'll be putting those emissaries in serious danger."

"Don't worry. They'll have protection." He waved Gyan off. "Go watch over Barro for a little while, would you? I need to concentrate on this."

"Alright. I'll see you at the meeting, then?"

Nick nodded and turned his eyes back to the book. His mind, however, couldn't help but turn to Sharland. The situation with Emild was troubling, but Sharland was his most powerful competitor on the diplomatic field. Iom and Emild were weakened by the war, Guardiana were their allies, and Tyber and Protectora were, respectively, too small and too distant to be of consequence. Sharland, on the other hand, had benefited from Iom choosing Cypress as its first major target, and they were unafraid to use that diplomatic muscle.

Fortunately, they preferred peaceful coexistence for the most part. So long as he didn't show any weakness before them, their relations would be good. That had been a major point when he had entertained the royal family and nobility of Sharland at Castle Cypress a couple months ago. Not that they didn't have weaknesses of their own.

--

Noticing that the young prince of Sharland seemed to have his mind on something other than the festivities, he had made a note to himself to approach him as soon as possible. A good opportunity arose during the intermission of the play. The prince remained in his seat even as everyone else left the theatre.

"I take it you are intensely enjoying the play, Prince Alain," King Nicholas remarked.

The prince got out of his seat and offered the king a slight bow. "Your Majesty... my belated condolences on the loss of your sister. And your parents," he added quickly.

The king smiled. "It's been well over a year, Prince Alain; be assured that I am mourning them no longer. Your condolences are appreciated, however." He let out a casual sigh. "It is a pity that my father couldn't be here today; he would have enjoyed seeing you again. You were his favored choice to be my sister's husband, you know."

"Truly?" the prince asked, his face dubious. "I had thought so, too, but a few weeks before... your father's demise, I sent Jenny a letter in which I hinted at marriage. Shortly after that, the letter was returned to me with a note from your father. He said that my suggestions were inappropriate and that he would henceforth be monitoring any missives sent to his daughter that might be from me." He began to sound anxious. "Do you think I might have been too presumptuous, and offended him?"

King Nicholas shook his head, smiling. "Consider for a moment. How did your letter reach my father's eyes in the first place?"

Alain started. "I had assumed... some unfortunate accident. Do you mean to imply...?"

He gave a nod. "My sister showed him the letter. She showed it to all of us, in fact."

A smoldering red spread over Alain's face. "You're lying. She couldn't have."

Nick cast his eyes upward and furrowed his brow in concentration. "How did it go? 'My dearest Jenny, already the time I've spent bereft of your company feels like an age in the most barren of deserts. If -"

"Enough, enough," Alain surrendered, collapsing back into his chair, his anger dissipated as fast as it had risen.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. I'm hardly an expert on the matter, but I thought your little missive was pretty good, as love letters go."

Alain rested his face in his hand. "I thought she... was fond of me."

He laid a hand on the prince's shoulder. "You misunderstand. It was simply a matter of cold feet; my sister didn't feel ready to be married. Father and I both argued that it was the proper age for her to do so, but she insisted she wasn't prepared to be a wife yet. I believe she also said that she wanted to get to know you better first. But she feared that you might take it the wrong way if she rejected you, so my father wrote that letter on her behalf." He drew his hand away. "Jenny would have agreed to become yours in a matter of a few months. I am certain of it."

The young prince slowly nodded. "Thank you, Your Majesty. It... It was an irreplaceable loss to the world when your sister was killed." He looked up at Nick and, apparently seeing something there to inspire trust, threw away the last veil guarding his weakness. "I truly loved her, you know."

"I can relate. I sometimes think, given the chance, I would have gladly died in her place." He allowed a space of silence, to strengthen the solemnity of the moment. It would help lead the prince to think that a genuine bond had formed between them. "Besides, I saw how enchanted she was with you. My sister was a proud and perceptive woman; she would not have remained so enamored of a man who did not truly love her in return."

"I..." Alain swallowed. Tears were brimming on his face. "...I can't tell you what a comfort it is to hear that, Your Majesty. Thank you."

"To speak of my sister is strictly a pleasure, Prince Alain. I hope you enjoy the rest of the play." With that, he headed back to his seat.

As he sat down again, he reflected on his new influence over Prince Alain, and thought of how ironic it was that his sister had proven to be more useful in death than she had ever managed to become in life. For a moment, he thought it was enough to make him laugh in amusement.

Instead, he felt a hard lump in his throat. _May I be stripped of my throne if I ever forget the sound of your voice, Jenny. I wish I could make you know that if I could have saved you, I would have._

--

He had been hopeful that his exchange with Prince Alain had been entirely in private. Nonetheless, he was not terribly surprised when, as he took the first steps of a slow dance with Princess Muriel, she remarked, "I noticed you and my brother having quite the conversation between the first two acts."

The king nodded. "He's a very likable man, one whom I haven't had the pleasure of conversing with in quite some time."

She smiled, her eyes pointing daggers at him. The fierceness of the look was actually quite charming; but then, he reflected, Muriel was one of those women who could steal hearts with any expression. "I'm very protective of my little brother, Your Majesty. If you're seeking to take advantage of him, I promise that you will regret it."

"I assure you, my lady, I wish nothing for your brother but perfect happiness."

She studied him with interest. "You know, I think you really mean that, Nicholas. You're certainly much more complex and difficult to understand than your father, may he rest in peace. Such a combination of a cool head and a love of power with compassion is... intriguing, to say the least." Her eyes turned to look at something behind him. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and saw Mayfair, dancing with the elder prince of Sharland - the heir. "There's many a fine lady whose hopes have been dashed by your engagement. Including myself."

"You?"

Her gaze turned back to him. "Don't act so surprised. The king of Cypress is by definition one of the most desirable catches in the world. And you know I've always thought you to have all the qualities of an ideal husband."

Nick smiled. "That's true. My surprise was that you should have thought I might propose to you. It's unlike you to pin your hopes on anything that the odds are not strongly in favor of."

"I had thought the correspondence and assistance I gave to you during the civil war might come to something. And I must say that I'm shocked by your tactlessness, Your Majesty. You do not think I am desirable, then?"

He shook his head. "You misunderstand. The royal family is quite depleted at the moment. It's a very bad time for the king to marry a foreigner."

"Ah. Of course." She smiled playfully. "Were you tempted?"

"I tried to avoid thinking of that possible choice at all. It would have been painful to contemplate such an opportunity and not be able to seize it in good conscience."

He couldn't be sure that that bit of flattery had actually fooled her, but she appeared pleased with his answer. Of course, the fact that he was, through no conscious intent, actively studying the admirable features of her face and figure probably helped.

As if reading his line of thought, she murmured, "I must say, your intended bride certainly doesn't look like much."

Nick couldn't argue with that. Among other things, Mayfair's short stature, stubby fingers, and coarsely shaped face made her appearance quite bland in objective terms, though personally he found those features rather comely. And while in his eyes the modest dress she had insisted on only served to let her natural assets stand out better and affirm her empathy with the lower classes, he did not doubt that, to his guests from Sharland, it was a final assurance that she was little more than a common maid.

And so, he merely shrugged. "Appearances can be deceiving, my lady Muriel."

"That is exactly what makes appearances so important," she returned.

"Indeed, your people do place a great deal of importance on beauty, my lady. Believe me, mine do not." He said the words with simple confidence; though what he said was true, the wrong inflection might lead Muriel to suspect otherwise.

"And you? How much importance do you place on beauty?" She leaned close and said the words in a whisper, which puzzled Nick.

He dodged the question, "I find my betrothed to be quite beautiful, actually."

She smiled. "I'm actually not surprised to hear you say so. You know, Nicholas, there's a rumor circulating about you and your betrothed. They say the two of you met during the war and were brought closer together by the turmoil your country had fallen into and your common loss of your families. You led your men in the guise of a peasant, so the two of you spoke freely with each other, she unaware that you were in fact her rightful king. Gradually your friendship blossomed into love, and when the war was over, your proposed to her. She at first declined out of modesty, but when you swore that not even the most beautiful princess imaginable could satisfy you in lieu of her, she relented."

Muriel was not baiting him; her face showed that she believed the story, in its barest essence at least, to be true. Mayfair herself had more than once accused him of being in love with her.

But he was not entirely a stranger to love. Remembering what he had felt for his father and his sister, Nick knew his feelings for Mayfair could not compare. With Mayfair there was always a sort of jealousy, a desire that her finer qualities should be shared with none but him, that had never tainted his feelings for his father or sister. Perhaps it was the fact that he kept that less than admirable impulse so well under control that had misled Mayfair - and Muriel, apparently - into thinking he loved her. But it didn't matter.

"Supposing that rumor were true," he said, careful to offer no clues in his voice, "...is it not good for a king to love his queen?"

"They say it goes beyond reasonable love," she accused, plucking at the ribbon wrapped around his sword arm as a symbol of his engagement. "They say this ribbon is tied not only around your arm, but your legs, your heart, your very will as well. They say you will gladly do whatever she commands for love of her."

He raised an eyebrow. "Knowing me, you honestly believe such a thing could possibly be true?"

The music glided to an end, and they finished the dance in an elegant pose, holding it for a moment. Muriel said pointedly, "You've changed."

He laughed. It was a deep laugh, and as he escorted her back off the dance floor, he had to fight to subdue it from rising again. "You're an incurable romantic, my lady. In the past year and a half my family was slaughtered, I was hunted as a traitor in my own country, I fought in a war for the first time, my uncle died at my hand, my sword arm was turned to stone and back again, and I took on the kingship of Cypress. Yet it must be a dalliance with a fair maiden which has changed me!"

She chuckled herself, allowing a most becoming blush to fill her soft cheeks. "It would seem you have me pegged, Your Majesty. I am rather disappointed at the lack of romance in the courts of late. First there was Alain failing to gain your sister's hand, and now, well, has there been any successful courtship in Cypress of late?"

"None that I'm aware of." He thought it best not to bring up Natasha and her Iomite spouse, for the moment at least. "Should I come across any, though, I'll be sure to write to you with all the details." He gave her a slight bow, topped by a smile. "Excuse me then, dear Princess. My betrothed awaits me." Being engaged, he and Mayfair were expected to share every other dance with each other.

"Thank you for the dance, Nicholas."

Mayfair watched him approach to take her hand. As he guided her onto the dance floor, however, her eyes lowered with a dispirited expression. It couldn't have been the dancing that depressed her; though Mayfair had only the barest skill in the art of dance, Nick's exceptional talent allowed him to guide them through the steps with ease.

They had only taken a few steps to the music when Mayfair said sullenly, "You would have wanted her, wouldn't you." Nick had no notion of what she meant, so he said nothing. "If you didn't have to worry about choosing the right queen for Cypress as your wife... you would have wanted to marry Muriel."

With a jolt, he realized why Muriel had whispered to him that one time. _Of course... she knew Mayfair was watching. Clever woman. Yet she isn't malicious or vindicative; this must be less of an attack on our engagement than a test of it. She probably figures that if this is enough to create a rift between me and Mayfair, then she can try pressing me to marry her instead. For a king of Cypress to break off an engagement is bad image, but hardly in violation of law._

Aloud he said, "If I didn't have to worry about choosing the right queen for Cypress, I wouldn't have wanted to marry at all. I've told you; I don't have it in me to love a woman."

"But if you did," she persisted. "She would have been the one, wouldn't she?"

At this point he'd gotten so in the habit of telling Mayfair the truth that he nearly declared that speculating on who he might have loved was a useless exercise. Fortunately he reminded himself that Mayfair, being not completely dispassionate in her reasoning, might see that answer as an evasion. Instead he swallowed and said, "If I could love, I think... that I would have loved you. You have a strength of will and character beyond that of Muriel, or any other woman. And I know you far better."

Mayfair didn't look very reassured. "I spoke with her for some time earlier. She's an intelligent and perceptive woman. She must be very caring as well, to have lent aid to your Cypress forces." Carelessly moving out of time, she stepped on Nick's foot, making them both wince. "Everyone was watching the two of you in awe... you dance so beautifully together. If anyone is watching the two of us, it's not in awe."

_This is becoming positively silly._ "Are you actually jealous, Mayfair?"

She started. "Good spirits, no! You know I am not so petty. No, I'm worried that you may have made the wrong decision in choosing me for your wife."

"For the sake of all dignity, stop dancing with yourself," Nick snapped, abruptly losing patience with her wayward movements. He grabbed her arms firmly and forced her back into step with him. "Just follow my lead. That's all."

She lowered her head. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"And stop worrying about whether or not you're the right choice. You're in no position to compare your own merits to those of others. I agree that Muriel would make an exceptional queen, but in every quality that matters, she is but a pale shadow of you. You can trust my word on that. In fact, I order you to."

"There's no need for ordering, Nick. If you're still certain of your decision after seeing Muriel in the flesh again, then I trust your judgment."

"Good." After a moment, he added, "I'll arrange for some dance instruction for you. It would be best if you were at a capable level by our wedding day. Now smile. We're supposed to be happy together."

She did as he asked, pulling off the impression of happiness quite well in spite of her lack of experience in pretenses. "So, you admit that dancing matters, and that I am not superior to Muriel in that regard."

He returned her smile. "Far easier for you to learn to dance as well as Muriel than for Muriel to learn to be as strong and wise as you."

--

Mayfair had afterwards given him a good account of Sharland's heir. The picture was, overall, as he expected: Sharland wanted to maintain their good relations, but was not adverse to gaining an advantage from the blows Cypress had taken of late. In their position, King Nicholas would have thought it a shame to not take advantage of such an opportunity, himself. So long as they showed no weakness, however, Sharland would remain a valuable ally. Using his influence over Prince Alain would help.

The trouble was, there was plenty of danger that they might reveal weakness in their dealing with Emild... and Iom. Nick felt increasingly anxious over the resolution of the conflict with Iom; it felt too neat and tidy. Things did not work that way. Some pieces of the puzzle were missing, he feared.

And there of course was the issue of succession. Warderer no doubt had an heir, but in his searches Gyan had not found any information about him. Whoever it was, he could not be allowed to ascend the throne. There was too much risk that he would seek to fulfill his father's legacy. King Nicholas preferred that Iom leave that part of their history behind, and return to King Aaron's line. Hopefully the papers he'd slipped in with Natasha's things would lead her and Deanna to achieve that end. He had no doubt that they would try to place Aaron's heir on the throne; Deanna, at least, would not stand for Warderer's line to continue ruling. If they succeeded, there was the added advantage that Deanna and Natasha would have a strong degree of influence over the new king. Through them, Cypress could solidify its claim to the lands they'd annexed from Iom, and more thoroughly investigate a few of the mysteries surrounding the god of Iom.

Nick blinked at the pages of the spell book. _Need to focus. I've already planned all this out; there's no need to run over it all again. True, King Ian's paranoia is worse than I'd expected, but hardly worse than I was prepared for. Why am I wasting time reconsidering every little detail of each situation? Is my plan really that uncertain?_

_Perhaps it does allow a slight possibility of mishaps at two or three points. But how could I do better?_

"Perhaps if you focused on domestic issues instead?"

Nick nearly jumped out of his seat; he'd heard no one approach. Turning his head, he saw his father standing beside him. "Marvelous," he muttered, dropping his forehead into his hand. "Now I'm hallucinating."

"What did I tell you about making assumptions without consideration, my son?"

Nick sighed, and amended, "Hallucinating or being haunted."

"You still assume too much, Nicholas. You never saw my corpse, remember. How do you know that I, the master of scheming and maneuvering, did not fake my own death, so that I could rid Cypress of its enemies from behind the scenes, letting my son be the face for my deeds?"

"That's just wishful thinking," he snapped. "I'm beyond such nonsense, father; I've accepted your death."

"Really." His father leaned in close. "But suppose I'm not here as a manifestation of your denial. Suppose I'm here to point out just a few of the follies you're making that I would never have made. Your undue fixation with foreign affairs, for instance."

"The affairs of other nations are tied up with Cypress's security," he returned, keeping his eyes straight ahead, away from the apparition.

"True, but you've taken it too far. Unless you feel you can insert a puppet king who will remain in power, the rulership of Iom is not your concern. Aaron's heir may not share Warderer's madness, but he will bear as much hostility for Cypress as any other king of Iom. As for Emild, you waste time by trying to thrust the olive branch to them. King Ian has made clear that he is beyond reason; it is time for a show of force."

"Brilliant ideas, father. I'm sure that, were you still king, they would work out wonderfully."

"A low blow like that, my son, usually hides a lack of reasoning for one's position."

Nick started drumming his fingers. "My reasoning is that I have to take a course that I can follow. The one you would have taken does not fit that bill."

"The course you're taking places all of Cypress in danger. You've needlessly deployed soldiers to deal with small hoards of bandits and petty issues of justice."

"You never neglected the needs of the people when you were king, father."

"Because I had resources to spare. Cypress was not recovering from a year of insurrection and war during my reign, Nicholas. You are wasting precious troops on helping small portions of the populace. You're trying to be a hero."

In spite of himself, Nick's anger flared. "I'm trying to do my duty to my people," he said, all his frustration at the difficulty of his job rising in his throat.

"You protest rather too strongly, Nicholas. I sense denial."

"Why should I deny the title of hero if I had any claim to it?" he returned.

"Because your attempted heroism stems from fear... fear that others will suffer as you did when I died. And I think you know it."

Nick was silent for a minute. Then he stood up, closed his book, and put it away. "Perhaps it is fear that makes me want to help them, but to deny aid simply because it creates a _risk_ to Cypress is cowardice. I have no need for cowardice; I can protect both the nation and the individuals living in it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend to."

Blessedly, his father did not follow him out of the library. After a moment's thought, Nick decided to take a quick detour to see Yeesha and have her try to find the source of the apparition. He had enough on his mind without having to hold discourse with his father, wonderful as it was to see him again in any form.


	6. Chapter 6: An Unofficial Resolution

- Chapter 6: An Unofficial Resolution -

"A rather nice wedding ceremony, wasn't it?"

Princess Muriel made no response to her older brother, so he turned to sipping again at his wine, tapping his fingers on the back of the armchair in front of him. Prince Saul always drank a glass or two of wine upon returning from a trip, even when they got back scarcely past midday, a habit which varied between amusing and disgusting Muriel. This afternoon, she decided as she adjusted herself upon the cushions of the couch, it had definitely fallen on the side of disgust.

He continued, "One might even call it... cute, perhaps?"

Muriel could not resist a smile at that. "So, you did notice the large percentage of youths among the escorts for the bride and groom."

"Precisely. Any theories?"

"In the bride's case, it could be her peculiar whimsy. In general, though, I believe they're shorthanded. Most of the elder guards must still be restoring the peace."

"Oh, blessed mercy." Saul slumped forward onto the back of the armchair, and for a moment Muriel feared he would spill wine onto the seat. "I get you to smile for one second, and then you're right back to the same old slump. Are you still upset that King Nicholas didn't choose you?"

"Oh, perish that thought," Muriel said, giving her brother a cruel look. "To think I should be upset, merely because a suitor five times better than any other has passed me by in favor of some drab priestess?"

"Really, you ought to buck up and look on the bright side," he counseled. "There's still King Ian open to you."

"Yes," she said, immediately depressed by the thought. "I suppose it shall have to be King Ian, unless of course he rejects me as well. Father wouldn't pass up that opportunity."

"King Ian reject _you_, my dear sister?" The prince smiled, and sipped his wine. "He'd have to be blind, deaf, and thoroughly bereft of any masculine instinct to do that."

"Then how do you explain King Nicholas, who is obviously none of those things?"

"Insanity." He offered her a more sympathetic look. "But in seriousness, surely you have put the question to the man himself?"

"He said Cypress needs stability in the wake of all the recent upheavals, and marrying a foreigner would run the reverse course."

"Ah." The prince pulled back from the armchair. "A sensible reason."

"And one I would have to be blind to believe," Muriel snapped. "I know him, Saul. Nicholas has always been a driven, acquisitive man. If he desired someone for his wife, he would not give her up just because another candidate would be more soothing to the people. He would take what he wanted and fight for stability on his own terms."

"Then mayhap he simply thinks Mayfair would be a better queen."

She gave her brother a look. "That is not amusing, Saul."

"I'm not deriding you, dear sister," he returned with a frown. "I'm suggesting you may have underestimated His Majesty's choice of bride."

"I've spoken with her," she shot back. "You should have seen how easy she was to intimidate."

"I am well aware of her demeanor. Have you considered that it could be a pretense, or better still, that her essence might run more than skin deep? The woman led the Cypress army to victory over Iom. That was not an easy war to win."

Muriel stared at her brother sipping his wine for a few moments. "He's in love with her, Saul. I'm certain of it."

The prince almost choked on his wine.

"It's not funny," she said, unperturbed. "Have you not noticed how happy he looks with her? The rumors all fit."

"Oh, honestly," he said, between laughing and coughing. "You never... cease to... amaze me, Muriel. You still believe the fairy tales mother used to read us at night, don't you? King Nicholas's is a heart of ice, and in this cold world, such hearts do not melt."

"Not for any ordinary woman, no, but for a modest little thing like that?" She gazed wistfully at the ceiling. "Can't you just picture it, Saul... Him lying bloody and dying on the battlefield, her warm tears falling on his face as she lays hands on his wounds, whispering a prayer that her magic will be enough to save him. And then the quake in his heart as he realizes that her sweet compassion is the one thing he knows that is beautiful and worth living for, that without her his life is but a gray and dreary enslavement to his duty as king, that the tears she sheds for him are more precious than the most prized maiden in all the lands..."

She ended there, and her brother reached down to lightly pinch her cheek. "Has anyone ever told you, dear Muriel, that you are absolutely adorable? It's enough to make me wish siblings were permitted to marry."

"I would refuse you."

"Of course, but even your rejection would be sweet to hear." He grinned. "And then I could say that, in spite of your rejection, I will give my all to secure for you your ideal husband."

"Oh yes, you _could_ - but as you've proven with Nicholas, you wouldn't."

"I tried my best," he protested, a hurt expression on his face. "The problem is, he already thinks the world of you, and I could hardly criticize his fiance."

"Which is yet more proof that he loves her!" Muriel persisted. "Honestly now, my brother, can you see Mayfair as possibly being a better choice in objective terms?"

"Honestly... Well, no. But His Majesty might disagree."

"Don't hedge on your analytic abilities. It doesn't fit you. You can see as well as I that there's only one reason he would have chosen a lowly archbishop's daughter. The only question is, does she love him in return? Either way, she is his weak point."

He sat on the edge of the couch. "I thought Guardiana was his weak point. After all, he doesn't even realize we now know of its existence."

"Guardiana will help, yes. But he doesn't depend completely upon Guardiana; he does depend completely on Queen Mayfair. We can take advantage of that."

"I must say, Muriel, this is... unlike you. You've never suggested aggressive diplomacy before." Saul studied her a moment, then tossed back the rest of his wine. "We should discuss this with the rest of the family."

She shook her head. "We both know how useless Alain has been lately, I don't trust your wife to keep a secret, and father has always believed in good relations over all else. We'll need to bend the rules to use my idea, and you're the only other person in our family who can see that sometimes such is worthwhile."

"I thought I was the only one of us who could see that, period." He set aside his empty glass and sat down. "Very well; I'm intrigued. Tell me what's running through your mind."

"It all depends on what opportunity comes first, and on what Mayfair's feelings for her husband are," she said pensively. "But if we nudge the little archbishop's daughter in the right direction, I think she'll do more good for Sharland than for King Nicholas."


	7. Chapter 7: see inside for title

- Chapter 7: A Diplomatic Mission of Some Significance -

"What have you found, Yeesha?" King Nicholas asked when he had returned from the meeting.

She was seated at one of the library tables, reading a book. There were several other people about, but they kept their distance, no doubt having been told she was at work. She looked up. "Nothing yet, Your Majesty. It takes more than just a couple hours to find the source of an apparition that isn't manifesting at the time. Of course, perhaps with you here..." The corners of her mouth pinched prettily. "Do you see it now?"

"As plainly as I see you."

His father smiled indulgently. "You're wasting time here, Nicholas. Whether alive, a ghost, or a hallucination, I would never do you harm. You would be wiser to stop analyzing and simply listen to my advice. Accept it or deny it, but listen."

_No. That way lies madness._ He would not allow himself to answer aloud.

He heard Yeesha say something to him at the same moment as his father, but did not catch it. She flipped through the pages. Her eyes flashed over a passage.

"You remain silent, my son. You still intend to banish me, then? But why?" His eyes seemed to pierce right into Nick's innermost thoughts. "You do not fear me. It must be because you fear my words."

"Not everything is fear and courage, father. There is such a thing as simple nuisance."

"Your Majesty?"

He looked at Yeesha. "Yes? Have you cast a spell that will let you see him?"

"Were you just talking to it?"

For a moment he was tempted to respond to her out-of-turn question, as he would have done when he was prince. "You have not answered your king's question."

She cast her eyes down. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. Yes, I can see the apparition now."

"Can you trace the spell that's causing it?"

"I... I did not say it was caused by a spell, Your Majesty."

He caught the implication, and did his best to hide his reaction. "You mean it could be the actual spirit of my father?"

"No. There are no such things as spirits, Your Majesty. I mean that the apparition does not necessarily exist outside of your mind. Sometimes... if one believes strongly enough in the images one sees, those images can be detected by magic."

He nodded. "In other words, a madness strong enough for you to perceive."

A blush came over her face. "Nick..."

"How many times will I have to remind you of the proper appellation?"

"I suppose I shall never break the habit, Your Majesty." Her tone was apologetic, but with a certain self-deprecating jest. She turned serious again before saying, "I didn't mean to offend you. But I am concerned about... that possibility."

Nick decided to take a seat, and reached out to pull a chair to a spot across from Yeesha. "I'm not offended. But why do you consider it a possibility?"

"To be honest, Ni- Your Majesty... you haven't been the same since your father died. When you tell me you're seeing his ghost, what am I supposed to think? And..."

"And yes, I was talking to him," Nick answered her earlier question. "But surely I don't seem mad?"

"No..."

"Would you trace that spell for me, then?"

She sighed. "I'll do what I can. It will take time, though."

"I understand. Inform me when you have results." In spite of the finality of his words, he did not get up. An impulse struck him. "Yeesha, you recall when we discussed love, don't you? Have you found anyone?"

"No, Your Majesty. I doubt I ever will; I'm something of an oddity here in the palace. There's little opportunity for me to socialize with people of my social standing."

"There's no need to limit yourself. I could arrange a marriage with anyone you like, regardless of social standing. Your talents make you a good match for anyone."

Yeesha blushed. "Why such a gracious offer, Your Majesty?"

"You have more than earned it with your service to Cypress."

"Thank you. But... I am quite happy for now, Your Majesty."

He got up. "Let me know if that should change. It pains me to see your loyal service unrewarded."

His father, now standing behind Yeesha, shook his head in shame. "You are fond of her. A servant woman who is bound to serve you without reward."

As he turned away, Nick hissed between his teeth so that no one would hear, "We played together as children. What do you expect of me?"

"To leave behind that childhood, Nicholas. A part of becoming an adult."

"She's a person, not a bad habit."

He closed the library door behind him, but not in enough time to cut off his father's last retort. "People can be as much a hindrance to success as habits."

--

It was later, while reviewing some proposals in his study, that he at last voiced his response. "What's the point, father? What good would it do for Cypress for me to mistreat my friends? I would never put them before Cypress, so where is the harm?"

Rationally, he was glad that his father was not there to waste his time with further argument. But emotionally, he wished he could hear his answer. He clenched his fists. _You're supposed to be a king for Cypress, not a son for a dead man. Concentrate!_

A knock at the door increased his aggravation, until it was followed by a voice. "Nick? It's Mayfair."

"Please enter." Ordinarily he'd open the door for her, but he was feeling too worn out. He stood up as she came in. After hours of staring at lifeless proposals and his father's ghostly memory, her cool face was a refreshing touch of humanity. "Words cannot express how good it is to see you at this moment, Mayfair."

She nodded. "You've been overworking yourself again, then?"

"It would be more accurate to say that my duties were overworking me. However," - he took hold of her shoulders and brought her close to kiss her brow - "...you're here now. My mind is soothed."

"Why do you say such things?"

"I've always found your presence calming. Surely it is acceptable to say so now that we are married?"

She pushed him away and stepped back, a pained look on her face. "Nick... you said this wasn't going to change anything between us."

_Odd... a rather strong reaction to such a casual statement._ "Nothing's changed. I simply avoided saying such things before because they might be mistaken for attempts at courtship. I think it is safe to say that there is no longer any risk of such confusion."

"It's not only your words, Nick. You just... embraced me..."

He frowned. "We've never been shy about physical displays of affection. Not before we were married, not before I appointed you general, not even before the civil war ended." He decided it would not be politic to add that such displays most often originated from her. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. "We've embraced before our marriage, but... not like that. What you did just now was different."

_I'm your husband and your king. Have I not the right to touch you however I so-_ He silenced that thought. His rights were irrelevant; he had sworn to himself not to require anything of her as queen that was not her strict duty.

Nick bowed his head. "If it was different, I apologize. I didn't mean it to be." _And I'm fairly sure it wasn't. There _is_ something wrong._ "Please, have a seat. Did you have something you wanted to discuss?"

She accepted the chair he pulled up for her with her usual grace, that which had always made her seem queenly, and got to the point. "Yeesha spoke to me." Her sombre tone dispensed of any need to ask what she'd spoken to her about.

"I'll see to it that she is properly reprimanded," he said, turning back to the proposals on his desk to give the impression of a casual attitude towards the subject. "I did not want you to be worried about that matter."

"You'll do no such thing. Yeesha meant well, and in my opinion she has done well." She reached a hand to his shoulder, but drew it back just before touching him. "Nick... I know you're not insane, but perhaps stress is making you see things."

"I considered that possibility. If stress is the cause of this hallucination, then the timing of it is odd, to say the least." He had already won all the things he wanted in life. His only source of stress now was protecting those things.

"In any case," she said, clasping her hands together in her lap, "...I know how close you were to your father. You shouldn't have to bear the weight of such an upsetting image alone."

"I have said that I do not want you worried about this matter," he returned, keeping his voice cold. "The hallucination is obviously limited to the library; I need only have my books brought to me here until Yeesha has neutralized the spell. Hardly a problem worthy of your attention."

"That doesn't change the fact that this hallucination has already spoken with you, or the question of who would plant such a spell in the first place," she retorted.

"If you're looking for something to busy yourself with, I have plenty at hand. To begin with, I need you to recommend an escort for the diplomatic mission to Emild."

She did not answer for a few moments, perhaps considering whether or not to permit the change in subject. "How many?"

Her delay allowed him to finish looking over one of the proposals. That done, he pushed them aside and turned to face her. "A half dozen will do, I think."

She looked discouraged. "It will be a while before we have that many at hand."

"The youth squads."

"I doubt if there are a half dozen mature enough for something so important."

"Maturity is unnecessary. The ambassador and his assistants will be handling the sensitive issues."

"True enough." She paused. "I'll need time to consider who would be best."

"Of course. Oh, one other thing. Varmo must be one of the escort."

Mayfair stared at him. "After that fiasco with Shriek, I'd think you'd want to keep him out of any diplomatic mission."

"Perhaps I think he might learn something," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"So do I, but this is not the place."

Nick gave her a half-smile. "Considering the likely outcome of this mission, I'd say it's the perfect place. Varmo might have damaged good relations, but he can hardly damage bad ones."

"Good spirits, Nick, will you be serious for a moment?"

His face straightened. "Mayfair, I promise you, it will be fine. I'm asking for an armed escort, not more diplomats. Varmo won't have the authority to do any harm."

She sighed. "Very well. You know best."

"Not always." He reached forward, took one of her hands, and clasped it in both of his. "You must understand that I need you for matters such as this. You are better at assessing people than I am." He considered a moment. "Perhaps I should not have said 'recommend' before. With the exception of Varmo, the guards you choose for the mission will be the ones who go. I would be a fool to question your judgment there."

"I understand. Thank you." Her eyes avoided his face.

The door to the study slammed open. "Cousin Nicholas -"

"You must learn to knock, Barro," he interrupted, releasing Mayfair's hand and standing up.

His young cousin stared up at him with a mixture of awe and alarm. "Were you going to kiss?"

"No, but barging in is rude, and easily avoided with a simple knock and wait."

Barro hung his head. "I'm sorry. I just fell and scraped my elbow and -" He held up his arm to show them. Through a hole torn in his shirt, Nick could see blood dripping from a half dozen holes in his skin.

"Good spirits, Barro," Mayfair said with a slight gasp, getting out of her seat and dashing to him. It was almost amusing that, after all the mutilations and near-fatal injuries Mayfair must have seen over the course of her life, she could still get upset over something as trivial as a scuffed elbow. "Let me see that."

"Running to me with something like this is a senseless mistake, Barro, to say the least," Nick reprimanded him. "I know nothing of treating injuries, so you accomplish nothing but wasting my valuable time."

"Nick! For Cypress's sake, can't you see the boy's hurt? Of course he's going to go to his cousin for help."

"That's foolishness. When you're hurt, you go to a healer for help. Ask yourself this, Barro: Who is healing your arm right now? Me or Mayfair?"

"Just ignore him, Barro," Mayfair said, moving her fingers over his elbow until the wound was closed. "That was one of the nastiest scrapes I've ever seen. You brave boy; you didn't even cry."

"Well..." Barro leaned forward and whispered to her, apparently thinking that Nick would not hear. "I did cry at first, but I stopped before I came here because I knew cousin Nicholas wouldn't like it." He paused, and added, "It still hurts a little."

"That's normal. By the way, where is Gyan? He's not with Nick, so shouldn't he have been watching you?"

"I'm having him do a little research," Nick answered. _Investigating if anyone in the castle is responsible for planting that spell in the library, to be precise._ "Barro has been with Eruminshus."

"I see." Mayfair frowned. "Why don't you run down to the front gate, Barro? I'll meet you there in a few minutes and we can have some fun."

The boy nodded and ran off.

"You're coddling him," Nick accused. "I'm trying to teach him to turn away from childish, irrational behavior that will only bring him pain if he carries it into adulthood, and you're reinforcing it."

"He's only a boy, Nick. Let him have his childhood."

"He is a member of the royal family. It is his responsibility to serve as an example to the people of Cypress."

"That's your father talking. The Nick I know loves his cousin and is happy that he will never have to bear regal responsibilities." She moved towards him - but he was not her goal, he realized. It was the desk behind him. "Let me see those proposals. I'll finish reviewing them for you."

He did not move out of her way. "You told Barro you were going to play with him."

"I said so only so that he would think it was your idea to put aside your kingship for an hour or two and spend some time with him."

Her presumption was aggravating. "Those proposals are my authority."

"I am the queen of Cypress," she returned, staring up at him in unflinching defiance. "We share that authority."

"What is your purpose with this? What difference does it make whether Barro spends time with you or with me?"

"Are you blind, Nick? Barro likes me, but he adores you. When you keep on turning him away like this -" She drew in a breath of what Nick could only call frustration, but it was not the same. "...he feels he is unwanted."

He didn't know how to respond. Mayfair seemed to be making him out as Barro's father figure, which was absurd; they were cousins. Still, he couldn't deny he was Barro's only living blood relative, and he certainly did not want the boy to feel unloved.

"That is not my only purpose, Nick. You're overworking to the point where you're spending no time being yourself. There's more to you than just being king. If you lose that part of yourself, you lose much of your effectiveness to Cypress, to -" She stopped herself, shaking her head. When she spoke again, it was with renewed vehemence. "Forgive me; this has to do with you, not Cypress. The reason Barro, Gyan, and I are fond of King Nicholas II is because we see something special in a young man named Nick. You aren't going to bury that young man under your duties. I won't stand for it."

Nick stared at her: strong, beautiful, and utterly defiant. He could feel the blood pounding in his head, and in less elevated parts of his body. "You are magnificent." She looked away. To soothe the sudden awkwardness, he added, "That's not the reason I will do as you suggest, mind you. I just thought it bore mentioning."

She smiled. "I'm glad you realize that you need time away from all this."

He didn't bother telling her that she was wrong, that her whole notion of him having a personality separate from being king was delusional. Though her words were based on a fallacy, the fire of her belief and emotion was, as he'd said, magnificent.

On his way out, he touched his crown where it rested on a pedestal. _This is the essence of my life: duty, and power. This is everything I am responsible for in life, everything I love in life. ...Nonetheless, it is right that Barro should have a cousin, and I will not deny him that. Besides, it is best to have an occasional rest from one's responsibilities, and the sooner I learn to rely on my queen instead of solely on myself, the better._

--

He took Barro to one of the fields outside the castle where he'd practiced swordplay in his youth. Of course, he hadn't experienced any sort of normal youth, and it was sometimes hard to keep up as the boy brought him into his games of imagination. He was tempted to sigh with impatience sometimes. Such play seemed a waste of time, though he had to admit it made Barro happy.

When most of Barro's rowdiness was spent, they went to a small lake and took turns throwing rocks in. "Mayfair's a nice lady," Barro said. "I'm glad you married her."

Nick looked at him. "How does it make a difference? If I'd married someone else, you still would have been able to spend time with Mayfair."

"I meant... you and her are nice in the same way... so you'll be happy together."

He smiled. "Barro, surely you realize that neither of us married out of love?"

Barro paused with a rock in his hand, as though looking for the best spot to throw it in. "But still, you're glad to be together, aren't you?"

"It's... it's not like that between us, Barro."

"Oh..." He looked down to his lap, the rock in his hand forgotten.

"For royal blood, marriage is not about love. Very likely I will one day have you married to someone you don't love as well."

"Oh, that's okay. I don't really like girls that much, anyway." He was quiet for a moment, then asked in an accusatory tone, "Don't you think she's pretty?"

"Beauty has little to do with love, cousin."

"Well, I guess you've seen so many fair princesses, Mayfair doesn't seem like much..."

"Barro, that's enough," he snapped.

The boy respectfully shut up, but his expression remained sulky. After a moment he hurled his rock into the lake. Anger tainted his throw, and it didn't go very far.

Nick knew he should berate his cousin for his attitude. Yet somehow, with the smooth surface of the lake reflecting back at them like a mystic portal, and the evening spreading its soft color into the sky, it didn't feel right. Instead he said, "Soon there will be a few boys your age at Castle Cypress. Peace is becoming accepted, and people realize this place is not just a stronghold anymore." Barro still said nothing, so he added for good measure, "Mayfair is very special to me. Even disregarding her role as queen, it is a blessing to be married to her."

Barro smiled, unsure. "That's good. I mean... I just want you to be happy, cousin Nicholas."

Nick returned the smile. As he turned to throw another rock in the lake, however, he sobered. "Barro... What would you think if I deliberately put Mayfair in danger?"

Barro stared up at him. "I know you'd set it up so that you'd be sure she wouldn't get hurt, right?"

"Nothing is ever sure. For me, or anyone."

"Well... I guess it must be really, really important for you to do that. You like Mayfair, don't you?"

Nick smiled, touched by his cousin's trust. "That's right, Barro."

"Besides, you have friends to make sure nothing happens to her," Barro said, turning back to looking for a rock.

King Nicholas stiffened, Barro's words striking off an idea. "That's right," he said. "I do have friends."

--

Nick took more than usual enjoyment from his marital bed that night. His desire had been aroused by Mayfair's earlier display, and he chose to frustrate it, taking extra time with kissing and fondling his wife's magnificent body, so that the moment of intercourse was more pleasurable for the long anticipation. Of course the whole point was to conceive an heir to the throne, but from the beginning of their marriage, Nick had found himself appreciating the sensation of it as well. Ironically, though he put far more effort into their so-called "lovemaking" than Mayfair did, it was always he who was afterwards filled with a sense of satisfaction and peace, while she seemed merely relieved to have it over with. Her bare form was appealing enough to him that merely being able to see and touch it was more than sufficient pleasure.

When they were finished, he lay down a couple feet away from her. As always, he had an urge to hold her, to smooth over the intense spikes of pleasure, but he refrained. When he tried that in the past, she had politely declined his continued touch, and he respected her wish.

"Nick, I've decided which soldiers to send to Emild." They were the first words either had spoken since entering the bedroom.

"Already?"

"It's better to make the decision now, before I'm plagued by guilt at sending these children into danger. ...This is an important mission, correct?"

"Yes. Perhaps I'm being stubborn, but I don't think we can afford to allow Emild to stand on its own. And if we do not pursue our diplomatic ends aggressively, other nations will think us weak."

"I agree." Nick watched her tidy her hair; part of purging thoughts of their mating from her mind, he supposed. "And since this is an important mission, we should send some of our most able youths. Dawn has more than proved herself, and I think will be enthusiastic about taking on something of this sort. Considering how well she gets along with Jaha, it would be wise to send him as well. And... I'm very tempted to send Halron. He seems to have been getting along better since his half-hearted attempt to kidnap Barro, and this could be a wonderful opportunity to establish some camaraderie with his fellow guards. That's what he needs at this point."

Then she frowned. "The trouble is, I don't know what his relationship with Varmo is like since he essentially framed Varmo for the kidnapping attempt. Varmo claims to hold no grudge against him, but... Varmo is a skilled liar. He's never been intentionally troublesome in the past, but there's a first time for everything. Especially where the young are concerned."

"Then don't send Halron. He has proven dangerously unstable already."

"He won't get better if we keep him locked away here, and if you're looking to avoid trouble then Varmo's is the first name we should scratch off the list," she returned. "As it is, we'd better have a peacemaker of sorts in the group... and that means Theo."

"I sense more than the usual reluctance."

She nodded. "Theo is excellent with people, but only average as a fighter."

That made Nick smile. "Given the quality of your training, that puts him at least on par with the best Emild has to offer."

"A comforting thought, Nick, but there's still something wrong with putting a boy of less than exemplary skills into a situation like this. And Theo is well-liked, if not necessarily respected, among the other guards. I should not like to have to inform them of his death."

"Theo..." the king said, a memory falling into place. "He was the one who protected Barro, wasn't he? Correct me if memory serves me wrong, but he's crossed swords with Halron on two separate occasions. If you're worried Halron might feud with Varmo, why send Theo?"

"Neither of his clashes with Halron were personal. They are not enemies."

It already sounded like a potentially disastrous grouping. Still, experience had shown that few things were as reliable as Mayfair's judgment of people. Nick stretched for a moment, and propped up his head with an arm. "So you're determined to send Theo. Who else?"

"They need a healer. Luke is the most experienced on the battlefield, but I don't trust him with Jaha. As it is, Lana would be best. I'm not sure how well any of the others would do under pressure if something goes wrong."

He nodded. _Strange, Mayfair offering explanations for choices she has already made. Part of our being friends, I suppose. We are still friends, I think, in spite of our marriage._

"Can I ask you a question, Nick? I know you were joking earlier, but you do realize that this mission could end in failure, don't you?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Then... what do you intend to do with King Ian, if and when that happens?"

"That depends on the diplomatic escort," the king replied. "They will have to either have King Ian confined for incompetence, allowing one of his siblings to take the throne, or kill him. ...Though I suppose the two courses are, in effect, the same."

Mayfair only nodded in reply.

--

He managed to wake up before Mayfair, and took the opportunity to steal out from between the sheets, slip on his clothes, and escape out onto the balcony with scarcely the breath of a sound. He had not been counting on keeping this morning's meeting a secret from Mayfair, but the less information she could potentially reveal to their enemies, the better.

Between taking furtive glances to make sure his wife was still asleep, King Nicholas watched the sky until a small gray dot appeared. Within a few moments, a massive birdman alighted upon the railing of the balcony. "Good morning, Claude."

"Good morning, Your Majesty," the birdwarrior replied. Claude was an imposing figure, not merely because of his above average height. Through vigorous exercise, he had built his wing muscles to the point where he could bear armor twice as heavy as that of a normal birdmen. Enemy archers accustomed to picking off birdmen with ease were quite demoralized to confront one who would charge their ramparts and laugh off the arrows lobbed at him. It made him an invaluable asset to the Cypress army, and that was plain with one look at the steel-clad hawk.

The king handed him a rolled-up piece of paper. "These are your orders. If you need any clarification on them, come directly to me; this assignment is completely confidential. No one but you, myself, and in case of emergencies Mayfair, Irinod, and Richard, is to know about it."

Claude had an anxious expression on his face as he accepted the paper. "There's a reason for that, I assume?"

"Yes. I have reason to believe there may be an enemy spy in the castle."

Claude stared. "Don't you trust more than those few people you mentioned?"

"Of course." The king hesitated a moment, then said, "There's another reason for the secrecy. I don't want anyone to know how much danger I'm putting honorable Cypressians into."

"Why not? Surely all your officials understand the need to put lives at risk, even sacrifice them, at times."

"I..." He shook his head. "This is my responsibility, Claude. If I've miscalculated, their blood should be on my hands, not on anyone else's. You are dismissed."

But Claude didn't move, which didn't surprise King Nicholas much. After all, the birdman had known him as plain old Nick before he'd known his as the Prince of Cypress. "Nick... I haven't read these orders yet. But I can guess who some of those honorable Cypressians might be. You really should tell Mayfair about this."

"How will it help her - or them - for her to know?"

"She's your queen. She should be told," Claude insisted.

Nick gave up; trying to argue sense into Claude was always a one-way conversation. "Very well. I'll think about it."

Claude nodded and bid him farewell.

Watching him fly off, Nick began to wonder. _Maybe I should tell her... just for the sake of keeping one less secret. Secrets can cause problems. In fact, they've caused me problems with Mayfair before. Except... most likely, she'll be too far away for this one to matter to her until it's over._ He glanced back to his bedroom, and saw Mayfair stirring. _That'll be it, then. If things don't happen as I expect them to, I'll tell her. Otherwise, there's no sense in her knowing._


	8. Chapter 8: Some Affairs of Iom

- Chapter 8: Some Affairs of Iom -

Leifo was having a peaceful morning.

_Inasmuch as one can feel at peace in these times_, he reflected, lifting a spoonful of grey oatmeal to his mouth. _Iom is highly displeased, and rightfully so. His chief shrine desecrated, destroyed, and the power derived from a fistful of royal sacrifices, laid to waste. It is probably fortunate that, in protest of Warderer's selfish course, I refused to attend the shrine at the intended time of Prince Nicholas's sacrifice; I might have perished in the shrine's collapse. Still, I can't help but feel that my presence might have made a difference. Did I fail Iom?_

_Well, if so, I shall fail no more. Peace must be restored to this land, and faith in Iom restored._ He shook his head. _How sad, that people should lose their faith because of the destruction of one building. How can one be so blind as to not see that the god of Iom may destroy even his own shrines if that is what is needed to finish his enemies? Iom only knows how many Cypressians and Guardianans perished in the collapse of the shrine._

Leifo's thoughts, and his breakfast, were interrupted by an attendant. "Lord Jared is here to see you, sir."

Without need to wait for Leifo's approval, Lord Jared came in. "A good morning to you, high priest. Or at any rate, a better morning than this damnable week I've had."

"Illness is not the province of Iom, my friend," Leifo smiled, dropping his spoon in his near-empty bowl. "Yet I always find a bit of prayer improves my well-being."

"It's not my health that's making my blood boil; it's those thrice-damned leaders in the capital," Lord Jared replied, pacing about Liefo's table in a way that, he had to admit, made him a bit nervous. He was moving quickly, and not watching his steps in his state of obvious agitation. "It's official now. Sergeant Deanna has renounced any claim to the throne of Iom."

"That is upsetting." Leifo rubbed at his bony wrists. "Would you like to sit down, perhaps?"

"I'm fine, thank you." The noble swung about on his heel. "Gods! It's enough to make me explode! Over and over we're thrown perfect opportunities to get a grip on the chief power in Iom, and over and over it's snatched away from us. First Warderer comes to power, with a promise to recompense me for my services - but then he turns out to be a madman for his own glory. So he's overthrown, we get Edwin to hold the position of power, and surely a weakling like him is easy to manipulate. But it turns out he's weak in the wrong way: too spineless to make any major decisions, deferring them all to 'the true king, when he comes'! Then this Deanna comes along, a man we can really control, a man with no experience in ruling or knowledge of the players involved. Only he slips out of every attempt I make to set him up as even a temporary ruler!"

"When you list it all together like that, it indeed seems like a curse." He studied his fingers. "And yet... Have you not tried explaining to Deanna that there is no other choice for the throne?"

"Oh, that's where things really become interesting. Not only does Deanna refuse to play the game, he's brought with him evidence of where King Aaron's heir is. They're tracking him down as we speak."

That made Leifo go stiff. "King... Aaron's heir?"

"That's right. Our little coalition has found a better answer to its goals than could have been hoped for." He sighed. "Once Aaron's heir is found, that will be it. No more changes in rule for Iom. And whoever our new king is, I suspect he'll have been too well-raised in the art of royalty to be open to any manipulation."

"Well, I suppose that's that, then," Leifo said, hiding his consternation. "Will you be aiding in the search for King Aaron's heir?"

"Of course," Lord Jared replied, his restless pacing at last dying out, replaced by an awkward slouch. "The sooner Iom has a king, the better."

"No thoughts for King Warderer's offspring? You were friends with his father, so it would be easy to break the ice with him."

"The leaders in the capital would never let him ascend the throne. Besides, he'd probably prove to be as mad as his father. I don't agree with the coalition on everything, but I certainly stand by their resolve to keep Warderer's line away from the throne."

"Hmm. I suppose that makes sense. To be honest, all these political matters are over my head."

"You really don't seem to care much, either," Lord Jared accused.

Leifo smiled. "My friend, Iom works his will regardless of what temporal being sits on his people's throne. His influence even extends outside this nation's borders. I assure you, your devotion to him will not go unrewarded."

"I suppose this is where you make your request for another donation."

"The statue in the shrine's courtyard is in need of repair," Leifo admitted.

Lord Jared shrugged and handed him a bag filled with gold. "Why not? Money is worthless to me, anyhow. It's power that I want."

"Power is Iom's to grant. Thank you."

They chatted for a while longer on small matters, but the high priest was eager to take responsive measures to this hunt for King Aaron's heir, and it was with relief that he at last bid his friend a farewell.

Once he was gone, the high priest pondered the matter. Naturally, the thing to do was to find Warderer's heir as soon as possible, and have him crowned before a competitor could be publicly announced. But how?

_He snapped his fingers. Of course; I'd nearly forgotten. That niece of Warderer's who I had brought in for questioning. Hopefully she'll be willing to help._

Leifo turned his feet toward the lower levels of the shrine. It was a shame, really, to keep the woman in what was essentially a dungeon, but she had refused to come willingly, he was told, and there were no more comfortable quarters where she could be restrained. And kept hidden, of course.

As he opened the heavy wooden door, his ears caught the sound of a feminine scream. He caught his chest with his hand, the scream piercing him with a spike of revulsion and sympathy. The instant he recovered from the shock, he raced down the stairs as fast as his worn limbs could take.

The hallway below was crudely carved out of stone, and so damp that it produced a light ache in Leifo's bones. He darted through one of the openings in the hall to come into an open room with a high ceiling. A young woman was shackled to a wooden board that leaned against the far wall, and every part of her body not covered by her torn clothing was marked by bloody cuts. A broad-shouldered man with a whip in one hand and a small knife in the other stood by her.

"Brutus!" Leifo cried. "What in Iom's name are you doing? I told you to take good care of her!"

The man lowered his whip and looked back at Leifo, puzzled. "Isn't this what you meant?"

"Free her," he demanded, ignoring the question. Brutus shrugged and began unlocking the shackles. Leifo seized a table from the corner of the room and propped it before the wooden board just in time for Brutus to lay the woman onto it. She was conscious, but too weak to make a break for it, or even speak. "Fetch water, herbs, and some fresh clothes. Hurry," Leifo ordered.

The priest paced and wrung his hands while waiting for Brutus. Healing was not the province of Iom priests. Spying a particularly unhealthy-looking gash on the woman's belly, however, he paused a moment in consideration, then pressed his fingers along the edges of the gash.

He saw a confused look on the woman's face. "I'm attempting to hold off the spread of infection, and to stop the flow of blood."

Brutus returned in short order, and Leifo dismissed him once he'd set down the things. Left alone with the woman, he removed her ruined clothes, washed and treated her wounds, and dressed her in the fresh clothing. "My sincerest apologies," he said, handing her the remainder of the water for her to drink. "You were to be treated as well as possible, given your necessary accommodations. I only wish there were something I could do to make up for your sufferings."

The water gave the woman the strength to finally speak. "Please... let me go. I've done nothing wrong."

"I know, I know," he said in a reassuring tone. "This nightmare will soon be over. I'll have you returned home, with a modest reward for your trouble, as soon as you tell us where Prince Amelo is."

"Your torturer already asked me that," the woman sniffed, staring at the now empty jar of water. "I tell you, I don't know."

"You're his cousin," he persisted.

"I don't... know where every single... one of my relatives is."

Leifo looked at her for a few moments, in thought. "Would you like more water?" She nodded, and he took the empty jar from her. "I will return in a minute. Do not wander off; if you are spotted on the upper levels without a sacrifice to Iom, the guards will take you for a trespasser and kill you."

He ran to the well, re-filled the jar, and returned as quickly as he could. Fortunately, she had not been so foolish as to budge from where she sat. Then again, Leifo reflected, in all probability she lacked the strength.

As she drank, he said, "You might recognize me by my robes. I am High Priest Leifo. How are you called?" He already knew, of course, but it was a way of breaking boundaries.

"Pasha."

"Pasha, I can understand how you might not trust me, but I mean your cousin no harm. I only want to find him to arrange for his coronation. If anyone but the heir of the previous king takes the throne, his kingship will be heavily contested, and that will lead to war. Your cousin stands the best chance of saving Iom from chaos, even collapse."

"I have told you, I don't know where he is! I've never even met him!"

The priest frowned. "Never met your cousin? That bears some explanation."

"What? What do you mean?"

He simply stared back at her. There was no need to explain; given time, she would tell him all she knew in the hopes that some part of it would answer his question.

After a few moments, she cleared her throat and said, "Listen... my father never liked Warderer. He lived in the palace, but it was just to keep the king from thinking he might oppose him. And my father kept me and my mother in our old house. He was afraid Warderer might do something to us. He had me engaged to a young man, but my fiance was sent off to the war with Cypress..."

"So you were never inside the palace, is that what you are telling me?" Pasha nodded. "And neither you nor your father ever heard of where Prince Amelo was taken."

"My father may have, before he died. I never asked him about my cousin."

Leifo sighed, and folded his hands. "Pasha, I repeat to you, I intend your cousin no harm."

"I believe you! I just don't know where he is!" Her voice was pierced with frustration and fear.

"Or perhaps you lie because you do not wish Amelo to become king?"

"I don't care who becomes king," she sobbed. "And I don't know anything of my cousin. I just want to go home."

Leifo gave her a few moments to control her sobs, then laid a hand on her shoulder. "I understand, Pasha. Unfortunately, this is too important for us to simply release you. You will be treated well here, provided food and a decent bed, but until you impart some information on your cousin, we can't let you leave. The fate of all Iom is at stake." He stood up. "I will speak to you again later. Let me warn you, however... Brutus has been overzealous in his duties before. I will order him to not mistreat you, but there is no guarantee that he will not resume where he left off before I arrived. For your own sake, tell me where to find your cousin as soon as possible."

"I don't know!" Pasha cried, sobbing again. "I don't know!"

He clenched his heart against the piteous sound of her cries as he left - not back upstairs, but down a hall. _A good time, I think, to report to my... master? No, that's not accurate. Only Iom is my master. Yet the words "associate" or "ally" don't quite fit, either. Limitations of language. It makes me yearn to hear the sublime speech of Iom._

The door to the room he desired was set among four others that were identical in appearance, yet it could be only opened by a key he always kept on his person. _Or by the will of Iom,_ Leifo added as he pushed the key in. The instant he stepped into the room, a strange chill made the ache in his bones even greater. Not a chill of cold... something more unnatural. Once he had closed the door behind him, a strange mockery of a voice called, "Ah, Leifo. Great servant of Iom. Come to share with me news of the outside world?"

Leifo stood where he was, not finding the courage to take a step closer to the unseen speaker. "You know why you must remain here," he said, as though in defense.

"Of course, my dear Liefo. Warderer's death changed nothing. And there are far more important issues to consider than the comfort of a humble creature such as myself. You have received word from Cypress, I trust?"

"Yes."

"Will they come to Emild?"

"Yes. With an escort of young troops."

"Young? How delightful. Then there's a good chance Mayfair will involve herself once we take them. Her blood will be very pleasing to Iom." The voice paused, then added, "If the queen of Cypress is obtained at any place, at any time, do be sure that she is brought to me."

"Aren't you more interested in the king?" Leifo asked, puzzled and, for some reason, uneasy at the request.

"Nicholas's time shall come, and I have always been a patient man. Right now, I think we should most concern ourselves with King Ian's siblings."

"It's too soon," Leifo protested. "King Ian is as likely to retaliate against Iom as Cypress. Besides, there's a larger threat now. The forces in the capital have a lead on King Aaron's heir. If they place him on the throne instead of Warderer's child..."

"Quite honestly, I could not care less about the rule of Iom. If my loyalty is to any nation, it would be to Cypress. My service belongs to our god alone."

Leifo was so shocked that he took two steps towards the speaker without thinking about it. "This is not something to treat with levity. If Iom falls into chaos, that will hamper our god's ability to enforce his will!"

"You truly think so? I am astonished at your lack of faith... to think Iom's power is restricted to any one nation. You, of all people, should realize that his hands reach to the capital of every land." Before Leifo could offer a retort, he went on, "Besides, there's no real difference whether Warderer or Aaron's line continues. There will be fighting either way, and either way, your beloved nation will endure. We should concern ourselves primarily with the doings in Emild. Is our agent there capable of performing the ritual?"

"Yes. Our messenger did ask that I pass that information on to you." Leifo shuffled his legs; the ache in his limbs was becoming almost unbearable. "I wish you would explain exactly how this ritual will further Iom's will. In case you've forgotten, I am considered the chief enforcer of that will."

"Yes... officially." Leifo stiffened at the insult. "But you are not a magical adept. You would not understand the ritual, and do not need to. Your only task is to ensure that no harm comes to Iom's agent in Emild. If King Ian interferes, he is to be sacrificed."

"What of the other nations?"

"There is no room for doubt there, is there?" A note of amusement seemed to have crept into the voice, but Leifo knew he must have imagined it. "Still, do keep a close eye on Guardiana. I would loathe to see Queen Anri escape her comeuppance."

"Why should I follow your orders?" Leifo demanded, but in a voice that was not at all harsh or bold. "You are restricted to these chambers. Aside from this mysterious 'ritual', you do nothing whatsoever in accomplishing Iom's designs."

There was a pause. The absence of the one he was speaking to from both sight and sound unnerved Leifo more than anything he could have said. The priest shivered.

"It is not wise to make ridiculous challenges, little Leifo. We both know that your life is to serve Iom, and to ignore my wisdom is to defy Iom. You do your part to serve our god, and I will do mine." Leifo nodded and was about to back out of the room when the voice added, "The situation in Emild is almost amusing, is it not? Iom may actually have gained more from being defeated by the Cypress army than he lost."

Leifo saw no reason to answer.

--

"She's kicking again!"

Deanna snapped to the bedside where Natasha lay, and put his hand on her belly. For a few moments, they waited with bated breath. Then he felt it... the exhilarating beat of a third life beneath his hand.

"Carla..." he breathed, gazing into his wife's eyes. "...I feel her."

Natasha nodded, smiling with joy at being able to share this with him.

It lasted for a few moments. Then, as Deanna removed his hand, Natasha cleared her throat and said, "It's time we talked about Hindel."

Deanna looked away. "Is... is that really important now?"

"You thought it was important enough to talk about it in your speech," she snapped. "Doesn't that make it important enough to talk to me about it?"

"Yes," he admitted. After a pause, he said firmly, "My brother was a hero. He saved Prince Nick, he protected us on our journey to the shrine. Warderer wouldn't have been beaten without Hindel, and he died for it. I won't let them dishonor his name."

"That's not what I'm talking about! I love your brother, I owe him more for protecting you than I could ever repay! I want him to be respected, too. But..." She took his hand in hers. "...I don't like you blaming yourself for what happened to him."

He looked at her, and struggled to hold in the sadness he felt at her refusal to accept that his brother's death had been his fault. That she could not even acknowledge such a sin was proof that it was even more vile than he had thought. "I... I had to say something to explain why I shouldn't be king. What if they didn't think my lack of experience and knowledge was enough reason?"

"But you would have said it anyway," she said, not as a question. She knew him very well.

"It's the truth." He didn't know what more to say than that.

"Listen to me." She spoke with a condescending patience, as though practicing for when she would need to explain things to Carla. "You did everything you could for Hindel; what happened was out of your control. You didn't do anything wrong."

"You know that's not true. I lied to you all, to protect myself. Then my brother died because I was too distracted with worrying about myself. And it all happened because I couldn't take care of myself. Warderer killed my brother, but it was my carelessness that let it happen."

"Deanna..." Natasha stared at him, her eyes on the brim of tears. "How can you hate yourself so much? I love you and everything you are... how can you hate that?"

"I don't hate myself," he said, putting a hand on her arm. "Maybe I did once, but..." He hesitated, then decided to leave the sentence unfinished. They both knew he was a better person now. "But I can't pretend the things I did before never happened. Can't you forgive them?"

"You know I do. Can't you forgive yourself?"

Deanna shook his head. "I don't think I have the right to judge myself, and if I don't judge myself, I sure can't forgive myself." He tried a smile, and gave her arm a squeeze.

But the sadness did not leave her eyes. "You're crying."

He hadn't noticed. He raised an arm to wipe away some of the tears. "I'm sorry. It's just... thinking of Hindel... still makes me miss him."

Her fingers brushed over his face. "Maybe we haven't talked about him enough."

"Maybe," he agreed, but there was a knock at the door before he could say anything else. Natasha nodded at him, and he turned to say, "Come in."

Edwin entered, flanked by Jengh and Frecor. "Pardon me for interrupting, Sir Deanna, Lady Natasha. It's just that we need to discuss the search for Aaron's heir."

Deanna nodded. "Can we talk about it somewhere else? Natasha's down to the last months... I don't want her to have to think about anything but our baby right now."

"Of course."

They found a meeting room in another hall and sat down. After clearing his throat, Edwin spoke.

"Luke and Margo have studied the documents and come up with an order of succession, listed as far as five candidates. Unfortunately, we have no idea if any are dead, and in most cases we don't even know where they might be found. Naturally, our only course is to begin a search for them."

Deanna nodded. "I'll handle that."

Edwin blinked. "What?"

"Did you do as I suggested, and made sure that no one but Luke, Margo, and the three of you saw any of those papers?"

"Yes," Edwin said, with a touch of sourness. "We could have gotten the list of candidates much more quickly if we'd had more than two scholars working on it."

"Yes, but I don't trust the people here. I don't even really trust you, but someone was needed to interpret Aaron's family tree. Margo and Luke are the only ones that I trust at all who could do it."

"Trust? What are you talking about?"

"Some of your people would rather not give Iom a real king," Deanna said, standing up and placing his hands on the table. "I'm sure of it. If word of this reaches the wrong people, they'll have all five candidates for the throne killed. We must memorize that list and burn it. The original documents are to be returned to me and Natasha so that we can deliver them to the heir. As for locating the heir, you may arrange a discrete search for the last two names on the list, but the top three names are to be seen by no other eyes. One of us must look for those three. You, Jengh, and Frecor are needed here, Margo and Luke would be of no use in a search, and Natasha is in no condition to leave." He looked down at the table and sighed. "That leaves me."

The others stared at him. "Aren't you taking your suspicions a bit far?"

"It's likely," Deanna admitted. "But I don't know how the authority and nobility works here, so I can't afford to trust it. If my suspicions are true, there's a very real threat of me having to take the throne after all. I can't let that happen."

"You'd really leave your wife at a time like this, no regrets?" Frecor put in.

"There are regrets. But what choice do I have?"

There was a brief silence, and then Jengh said, "At leassst, let usss send a few troops with you, to protect you."

Deanna hesitated a moment. "Alright. You and Lieutenant Frecor may each select one of your men to accompany me. Don't tell them any of the candidates' names."

"Only two men? What of your sssuspicions?"

"Any more than two, and I'd have to worry about them betraying me," he said grimly. "I'm sure that I can handle two if necessary."

"Very well," Edwin said. "Just finish your search as quickly as possible. I swear to you, I can't stand this rule much longer. I'd planned on being out of this months ago."

"Don't worry; I'll set out first thing tomorrow. Lieutenant Jengh, Lieutenant Frecor, have your men, and all the supplies we'll need, ready by then."

--

When he was finally able to leave the meeting room, Deanna released a massive sigh. Pretending to so much confidence sometimes took a lot out of him. It amazed him that he could pull it off with such ease, but the need to pull Natasha, Carla, and himself out of this mess gave him more than enough strength. He was even beginning to feel that the confidence wasn't entirely an act anymore.

Still, there was one thing he wasn't at all confident about: breaking the news to Natasha.


	9. Chapter 9: Issuance of Orders

- Chapter 9: Issuance of Orders -

The midwife sat back a moment before announcing her conclusion. Queen Mayfair waited, glad that the woman took her time, and braced herself for the news.

"The View spell reveals nothing, Your Majesty," the midwife said. "It is quite probable that any baby you carry would be too small to see yet, however."

"I understand," she nodded, getting up. "Thank you for your time."

"I will see you again in two weeks, then?"

"Yes." She couldn't find it in herself to say anything more than that. The thought that she might be carrying Nick's child disturbed her. It was a crucial part of her duty as queen, yet one she had failed to consider when deciding whether or not to marry Nick. Oh, she had thought of having children after Nick proposed. It was something she yearned to do. Yet somehow she had never combined those musings with Nick's proposal... she had never thought of having children from him.

_Hardly the only unexpected complication with being Nick's wife,_ she added to herself as she headed to where Gregor's squad was doing their morning drills. _It was confusing enough when he was both my king and my friend... now he's my husband as well. I thought that, if that new role made any difference between us, it would be that he would finally admit that he loves me. That, I could have accepted, even welcomed._

But the change between them went in a far less pleasing direction. Knowing Nick as husband presented him in a different light, and she could no longer fail to notice how appealing he was. It was not just that he was handsome, though that was one thing her eyes had been opened to. He was resolute, gracious, intelligent, and even idealistic. Indeed, in a sense he was quite selfless; he had his desires and certainly did not hesitate to fulfill them, yet at the same time he devoted so much time and effort to helping others that she worried for his health. Besides having deployed nearly all the Cypress army to providing justice and protection for the people, he always struggled to make any new law or regulation work to the maximum benefit of his general subjects. Matters that would have otherwise been finished in hours took days of contemplation.

All things she had always known about him, of course. But where she once saw them as marks of a great king, she now saw them as desirable qualities in a man. It would have been very easy to fall in love with him, she realized, if only he loved her in turn. As it was, she was too cautious to give her heart to a man who would give nothing in return, and thankfully her attraction to Nick was rather shallow; she was attracted only to those qualities of his that any woman would find compelling. Nick was certainly not the type of man she would have chosen to spend the rest of her life with.

Shallow as the attraction was, however, it was there, and she had not been able to stop her heart from pounding when Nick embraced her earlier. Part of her ached to surrender, to indulge in his affections, and that worried her to no end. Infatuation, even with her husband, was a distraction she could not afford at the moment. Particularly if he could never reciprocate those feelings.

Once, she had felt almost sure he loved her. From the very moment of their engagement, Nick had sowed nearly every possible doubt in that conviction. She remembered him dancing with Princess Muriel at the celebration of their engagement. Most especially, the way he had laughed with her at the end, a laugh not of mockery or bitterness, but of true merriment. She had never heard him laugh that way before. Not surprising, considering the tragedy he'd suffered. Muriel had broken Nick out of his stoic brooding; she never could.

She was not concerned about Muriel; Nick had said he did not love her, and though he would have had good reason to lie, she tended to believe him. _Yet if Nick has given his heart to me, why could I not break him from a spell that a woman he's met but two or three times in his life freed him from? If he loves me, why do I not make him happy? The only change I've made in him is that I am "a calming presence"._

Mayfair stepped outside and, spotting Gregor's squad, brushed the subject from her mind. _To love me is the last thing I should desire from Nick. As a friend he is beyond compare - kind, true, and considerate - and that part of our relationship is already tainted by his kingship. I shouldn't muddy the waters further with love._

"General Mayfair," Gregor said tightly, offering a salute. She nodded at him, glad that he was unafraid to call her "general" rather than "queen".

"You all look very orderly today." It pleased her that, even before she neared them, there had been no roughhousing or goofing off. The young troops had achieved a degree of maturity over the past months that did her proud. "Before we begin the drills, I have an announcement. His Royal Highness has ordered a diplomatic mission to Emild, and to ensure its safety, a small armed escort will be part of it. One of you is among those selected for this mission." She paused. "I chose this team because of how well I believe the members will work together, not because of the merit of any individuals. I want all of you to understand that. Let's begin the drills now, and afterward the one I have chosen will come with me."

--

Lana walked proudly down the halls of Castle Cypress, and the six inches or so that she rose above her general was readily apparent. Another woman might have been daunted, Mayfair reflected, if not by that, then by Lana's almost otherworldly beauty. Her long hair shone like sunlight reflecting off a waterfall, and her willowy figure moved with an understated and apparently unconscious grace beneath her silk robes. Mayfair worried, sometimes, that the other girls in Lana's squad were daunted by her proud and lovely bearing. It could not be good for their self-esteem.

"Your Majesty..." Lana said, in a timid voice, "...you'll forgive me if I'm honest with you, won't you?"

Her choice of appellation stung, but Mayfair did not let that show. "Barring an affront to Cypress or her king, of course."

"I really wouldn't have wanted to go on this sort of mission. Are you sure there aren't other people who would much rather go?"

"The guards for the escort were chosen for the good of Cypress, Lana. None of our personal preferences are important next to that."

"I was just asking." She put both hands over the same spot on her staff, gripping it tight. "It'll be a different experience, I guess. I've always wanted to see some of the world. Not like this, but it'll be cool. ...Will there be any cute guys in the escort?"

Mayfair returned her anxious smile. "Just one." Hopefully, this experience would teach Lana that there were more important skills to have than coquetry.

Dawn's squad would ordinarily be resting at the time, but Mayfair had sent orders for them to gather in the armory. When they arrived there, she instructed Lana to step back. Dawn stepped forward and saluted.

"General Mayfair. You have orders for us?"

Mayfair could not keep back a small smile. After all they'd been through together, it was hard not to feel a particular warmth for the young centaur, even when she chose to treat her duties with such seriousness. "It is more of an announcement, Sergeant Dawn. How would you feel about being part of a diplomatic escort to Emild?"

"If that is your order, then -"

"It is not." Those words shocked some life into Dawn's eyes. "I chose you for the expedition on the assumption that you would have a strong personal desire to serve beloved Cypress in this way. If you do not, then there are better choices."

"I would be honored to take on this duty, General," Dawn answered, clamping her hooves and assuming a firm posture, her eyes shining with an unusual eagerness. "Provided that Eric is not also part of the expedition, and that I will not be missed here."

"No need to worry, on either count. Laen will take your place as squad leader in your absence. Theo, you will also be part of the escort."

Though he looked surprised, and not in an entirely pleasant manner, Theo just nodded and stepped forward. It was Dawn who raised a protest.

"General, please consider another choice for this mission. If we are at any time forced into combat, Theo will be a liability."

"I am aware of Theo's capabilities, Dawn, and I have found him suitable for the job," Mayfair said.

"With all due respect for your intelligence and wisdom, General, you have not been conducting this squad day in and day out, as I have. If you would consider my more seasoned analysis of Theo's abilities -"

"My decision has been well-considered, Sergeant, and it is final. Now follow me."

The four of them left, Mayfair guiding them to one of Castle Cypress's lesser meeting rooms. As soon as they were out of earshot of anyone but passers-by, she said in a much softer tone, "I'm sorry that I spoke that way to you, Dawn. You did nothing wrong; it's only that I can't stand to have my choices for this mission questioned." _Especially not Theo,_ she added silently.

"Thank you, General Mayfair." Dawn paused. "Do you think we'll have a chance to meet with Chester and May in Emild?"

"I'm hoping that you will, yes."

"Where are we going?" Lana piped up.

"To meet with the ambassador for the mission."

"Who? Richard?"

"His Royal Highness believes that Richard will be needed here. He had chosen a younger diplomat for the mission, however, the Lady Sarah volunteered for it."

Lana groaned.

"It will be a pleasure to serve under her guidance again," Dawn said, giving Lana a disdainful look.

A call from behind stopped them short. Turning around, Mayfair saw Binuto running towards them.

"General Mayfair," he repeated as he came to a stop, not even breathing hard. "I want to join the diplomatic mission. I volunteer."

She paused. She'd expected something like this from Binuto, but not at this moment. "Dawn, Theo, Lana... go on ahead. It's the fourth door in the north hall. Lady Sarah is expecting you."

Once she felt sure they were out of decent hearing range, Mayfair closed her eyes to muster her strength. This was not going to be easy. "Binuto, Castle Cypress is short-handed. We need every available guard."

"So leave one of those three here. You know I can fight better and keep attention longer than they can, and I've got more guts than the three of 'em combined."

"Which is why we need you here, protecting Cypress."

"Come off it!" Binuto snapped. "Who's going to attack Castle Cypress? I signed up here to see some action, and for a year now I've done nothing but patrol the halls!"

"That's another reason why you aren't going, Binuto," Mayfair returned. "This mission requires soldiers who want to prevent bloodshed, not shed blood themselves."

"Oh, sure. Like King Ian's going to be waiting for them with open arms."

She gave him a stern look. "You're too quick to assume enemies, Binuto. King Ian has been reluctant to open diplomatic relations, but that's a big step short of attacking a friendly ambassador." As she spoke, however, his look remained defiant. She sighed and tried a gentler approach. "Binuto, believe me, I understand what you're going through. The same thing happened to me, remember. You joined the army to avenge your parents, but chance didn't give you a part in the war. That's frustrating, but you should be looking to avenge your parents by protecting other lives; seeking vengeance through death just forces you to see enemies where none exist."

"'The same thing', right," Binuto snorted. "It'd only be the same thing if you and I were the same person. You've never understood me. And you talking about me seeing things wrong is just a laugh. Seems to me that ever since His Royal Highness got under your skirt, you've been seeing things wrong."

Mayfair's fist knocked him sprawling onto the floor.

"That is quite enough, Binuto," Mayfair said. Her anger felt as cold as the tone she used. The insult to her was meaningless; it was the disrespect to her position that enraged her.

"Or what?" he demanded, slowly pushing himself off the floor. Blood trickled from his lip. "You'll give me my discharge? Then I'll just have to kiss goodbye to another year of sitting around waiting for something to happen." A reply to that did not immediately come to mind, and after a moment of silence Binuto laughed. "Oh, right... I guess that sort of insolence to the queen is grounds for execution. Not that that would make a difference to me, either."

It took another moment for Mayfair to find her voice. "You know I wouldn't do either of those things, Binuto. Because I haven't given up on you yet. We need you here, and I think you need to be here, too." She left a pause, then added, "You will keep a civil tongue around your superiors from now on out of respect for yourself. Or if you cannot muster enough respect for yourself, then out of respect for your parents."

"They're dead and gone. What do they matter?"

"Out of respect for Cypress, then." She turned to go.

"...I'm sorry." She stopped, waited. "I didn't mean what I said about His Royal Highness and you. I was just trying to get you angry."

"Apology accepted. But do not make an affront like that again. Even I have a point at which I give up on someone."

"You can't keep me here, you know. I can go find vengeance on my own."

"You won't. You're needed here, Binuto. A soldier who keeps the enemy away simply by being there is of far more value than one who falls on the battlefield."

--

As she led Varmo, Halron, and Jaha to the meeting room, Mayfair could not help but think of Nick again - Binuto's flippant remark ensured that. He could know nothing about it, but having sex with Nick had upset her peace of mind, even relative to everything else in their marriage. She had been prepared for the feeling of being violated, but the sensations of pleasure had shocked and horrified her. She had been well educated about sex, and learned more from talking to people, but she had never thought it could be enjoyable with someone one did not love.

Nick was not a bad lover; he was forceful, and on occasion disturbingly methodical, but tender. It was comparable to his approach to diplomacy: constantly striving to obtain his own desires, yet always leaving room for the other party to back out or modify a condition to one they were more comfortable with. And contrary to her expectations, he handled her with full awareness that it was human flesh he embraced, not clay. The revulsion never hit her until afterward... intellectually she knew that enjoying loveless sex was but a small sin, but she could not help but feel utterly dirty and tainted.

And Nick made it worse. She understood that intercourse required some stimulation, but Nick often continued his attentions for indecent lengths of time. The prolonged pleasure added to one guilt, and in a cruel irony, the fact that she gave so little reciprocation added to another. She often thought of asking him to be as brief as possible, but it was too awkward a proposal, and she feared he would respond to her sensual vulnerability with scorn.

_It is all worth it,_ she reminded herself, _for the good of the children of Cypress. I am their symbol of strength and wisdom, of the fact that Cypress has survived its greatest struggle. A hard role for someone like me to bear, but someone must bear it, and for the sake of Cypress's innocent children, I will endure all this. For them, I must even... bear Nick's child._

_If only I were the only one suffering. It would be easy to wallow in self-pity, but Nick may be facing nearly as much pain as I. Emotionally he's near impenetrable, but people do matter to him... and I'm beginning to think they matter to him too much, that he learned his lesson from Deanna and Hindel too well. That little comment he added to his plan for King Ian, for instance: "I suppose the two courses are, in effect, the same," as if that wasn't obvious. He's trying to convince himself that it doesn't matter, that he doesn't care what happens to King Ian, and that must be because he does._

_I can understand why he would feel that way; after all, King Ian is acting out of grief for his father, something Nick can relate to well. But King Ian may turn out to be our enemy, making such sympathy misguided at best._

_If it were just King Ian, I wouldn't be concerned. But his deploying of troops, and all his other policies, gives me the sinking feeling that Nick wants to save everyone, and arrogant as he is, he probably believes that he can. When he finds otherwise..._

She closed off that thought; it was assuming too much. All that the evidence showed was Nick doing the best he could for his people, and there was certainly nothing wrong with that. The weight he was bearing, though, was troubling. What disturbed her about Nick seeing his father wasn't the likelihood that it was a result of stress, but that she was not even surprised that his stress could affect him that much.

It struck her that the six young guards were staring at her, waiting. She blinked, having not even realized she had reached the meeting room until that moment.

"Soldiers of Cypress," she began, just as though she had never been lost in thought. "Your task, at its basic level, is simple. You are to ensure that no harm comes to the Lady Sarah or her aides. If all goes as normal, this will involve no more than accompanying her to Emild and fending against wild beasts. Yet history is littered with events that did not go as normal." She cast her eyes over them with affection. "I'm sure all of you are aware of the discouraging signs that have come from Emild. I will not lie to you: there is indeed danger that you will be treated as invaders. However, do not expect the people of Emild to turn on you; until there is proof to the contrary, assume that you will be received peacefully. If you are attacked, however..."

She stopped there, pondering how Nick wanted her to order them. She could not believe that he would want these youths to put their lives in undue danger, yet he had spoken to the effect that it was they who should see to King Ian's fate.

_To the pits of Iom with what Nick wants_, she decided. _These are the children I've raised, and I won't put the wrath of a mad king on their heads._ "Each and every one of you is precious to Cypress, unique and irreplaceable," she said, making her voice loud enough that it would imprint on their minds. "If things go wrong in Emild, you are to see to the safety of the Lady Sarah first, and second to your own safety. Only after those two things are you to give any consideration to securing Cypress's interests in Emild. It is better that you live to make your report to His Royal Highness than to die in Emild."

With that said, she went into the finer details of proper conduct in Emild, native customs, and basic geography. She informed them that they would be leaving by noon the next day, and to say their farewells before then. With that, she dismissed them.

Halron remained, however, and when the others were gone he approached. She smiled at him. "Halron. Tell me, how are things between you and Varmo?"

He shrugged. "We're still friends. We don't talk as much, but... he's been more of himself lately, which makes him a good deal easier to put up with."

"That's good to hear." In truth, his voice suggested more of a rift between him and Varmo than his words admitted. Still, at least it didn't sound like there was any grounds for the suspicions she'd told Nick about.

"General Mayfair... you really trust me with a mission like this?"

"You've always had good intentions, Halron. You just never had anything to do with them." She reached up to place a hand on his shoulder. "This is your chance. If you do well, no one will have any basis for criticizing you anymore. If you do wrong, you'll have thrown away your last chance. Trust you, Halron? Of the six assigned to this mission, you're the one with the most reason to not disobey. Trust doesn't even enter the picture." She smiled. "But if you must know, even without those things at stake, I would still trust you to do right by Cypress."

He looked at her, uncertain. "...Thank you, General Mayfair."

--

That night as she pulled the sheets around herself, Mayfair thought over all that was happening. She'd given the escort the best instruction they could have, but she still worried for their lives, and she worried that Halron would not find it worthwhile to give his best. And Binuto... had she been right to give him another chance?

Nick lay beside her, wearing a contented smile. There was a familiar flash of aggravation at him for enjoying the things he did to her, only increased by the fact that he rarely smiled like that at any other time. The day, after all, was little but work for him.

The aggravation was fleeting, and she felt the urge to share her worries with him. _Not a wise notion_, she warned herself. Nick was a good man, but not a sensitive one. She remembered when they were writing wedding invitations, and he mentioned that he would have no objection to inviting Natasha, even if it meant waiting an extra week or two while the messenger tracked her down.

She could not bear the thought of her beloved child seeing her marry a man she did not love. Natasha was a pure idealist; it would crush her to learn that she was not. For Natasha's sake, Mayfair hoped that she would never hear of their marriage. So she told Nick that inviting her would be too much trouble.

She had thought - maybe even hoped - that Nick would question why. But he only nodded and went back to writing invitations, as if her decision were perfectly normal. It was not that he was ignorant of what Natasha meant to her; he'd shown on more than one occasion that he knew. He simply didn't care. People's lives were very important to him, but their feelings were considered trivial.

It only followed that he wouldn't care about these concerns, either. There was only one thing worth asking him... "Nick," she prodded.

"Yes?" He sounded slightly displeased to have his rest disturbed.

"When I spoke to the troops chosen for the diplomatic escort today, I told them to prioritize their own safety before the success of the mission."

"Good," he said, sounding more pleased. "That's exactly what I wanted." He took in a satisfied puff of breath and rolled onto his side.

She stared at his back for a long minute, perplexed.


	10. Chapter 10: see inside for title

- Chapter 10: The Determination of Some Affairs of Iom -

The moment Deanna's feet slipped out of bed and touched the floor, he felt Natasha's hand fasten onto his arm.

"Don't leave us," she said, in a voice almost like weeping.

"I explained last night," he answered, keeping himself from looking at her. "If I don't take care of this... people will die. Besides, I'll only be gone two weeks at most."

"Too long. I'm six months pregnant, Deanna... I need you right now. Send someone else."

"I can't... That's what they'll expect me to do."

"Who's 'they'?"

"I don't know... Edwin, maybe. Lord Jared, probably. Someone wants to keep Edwin in charge, or put me on the throne; it only makes sense. If I don't take care of this myself... I may have to be... king. Then I'll barely have any time for you... in the last months before Carla's born."

"You don't have to do this." He heard her shifting on the bed, and felt her lay a kiss on his middle finger. "Let's just get out of here, away from these people and their thrones. Back to Hal and Shim and the others." She kissed the back of his hand, then his wrist. "They still need us. We can have the baby away from this mess..." She worked her kisses up his arm. It was getting hard to concentrate; Deanna couldn't help but think of how good her lips always felt on his, and how easy it would be to curl back into bed with her and pretend there was no reason to leave.

He swallowed. "People... need us... to do this... to find Aaron's heir."

"You're exaggerating. Edwin can rule, or Warderer's heir, or whoever..." Her lips went above his elbow, and her hair brushed against his skin.

"Stop it..." he pleaded. The lure of physical pleasure was only moderately enticing, especially with Natasha's engorged abdomen, but the reminder of the more subtle expressions of her love, of the simple joy of being with her, and of the family he was sundering, was torture. Her temptations pained him all the more because he knew that he wasn't going to give in to them.

"Just stay here. Please."

"I can't..." He stood up, pulled his arm free of her grasp, and began putting on his clothes. "I can't," he repeated.

He hated the words, hated that he'd voiced them, even knowing they were right. The silence it left between them was even worse. He feared she would think he was doing this out of insensitivity, that he didn't realize how important it was for him to be with her at this delicate stage.

His heart sighed with relief when she broke the silence. "You won't even look at me."

"I don't want this to be... even harder than it already is." Completely dressed, he picked up his sword in its scabbard and reached for the door.

"That's it, then." Deanna stopped. Her voice was surprisingly calm, and... something else. "You'd rather find a king for these people than stay with me and Carla. I guess we're just not as important to you. I had no idea when I married you that your love was so fickle."

Deanna was still a moment longer. Then he dropped his sword.

He couldn't do it. He could make an unshakable argument for his going, but to have Natasha think he did not love her was unbearable. He could survive losing her love, but not her feeling that she'd lost his. The situation was familiar in a few ways, he realized. But this time, it was physically impossible to take her with him, and sending others to look for Aaron's heir would only be risking innocent lives, not abandoning them.

He turned and went back to her, head hung in shame.

Seeing him approach, Natasha's cool expression melted into sudden remorse. "Oh gods no - I didn't mean that..." He took her in his arms, pulled her tight against him, and she sobbed into his shoulder. "Oh gods I'm so sorry, I can't believe I said that to you. I'm a horrible person... horrible..."

"No, you're not," he said, rubbing her back to soothe her. "You're just... asking for what you and Carla deserve... as a wife and daughter. ...We'll tell Edwin to begin an official search. I'm staying with you."

"No." She pushed away from him slightly and looked into his eyes, trembling with emotion. "Do what you have to. If you stay because of me... that would prove I don't love you, and I love you more than my life, even more now than before we married. The way you want to help people is one of the things I love about you... I won't take that away." He watched her sad eyes with concern, and she answered his look, "We'll be fine. The midwife is here, and there's Jengh and Frecor."

"I'll have Dust watch over you, too."

"No, he should go with you. You'll be in more danger than me."

"I... I really wish that were true." He ran a hand through her hair. "But we already have people out to kill us, remember, and everyone knows you're here. No one will know where I am. And you're carrying two lives, against my one."

Natasha flinched at that last summation. "Deanna! Don't even think about dying on me!" She gripped his arms as though he were dangling over a cliff edge. "I won't die without you or anything corny like that, but... I don't even want to think about what life would be like with you gone forever. Please..."

"I'll be back. Nothing could stop me from seeing you again."

She giggled weakly. "Now you're being corny. But you really mean it, don't you?" He didn't need to answer. "I don't deserve you... after those horrible things I said. I knew they were lies even when I said them. I know how much you love us."

"We all say things we don't mean to the people we love." He smiled. "I should tell you some of the things my father and my brother have said to me."

"But _you_ never say those sorts of things," she pointed out. After a second she sighed and looked down. "We should... just stop. I'm keeping you here longer than you should by talking like this... just go. We'll be waiting here for you, and... wait." Her grip on him tightened again. "Give me a goodbye kiss."

Deanna leaned forward, and they clung to each other in a warm embrace until they both had to stop for air. On impulse they kissed again, their lips meeting for only a brief spark this time, and he parted from her arms.

"I love you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He said the same to her, picked up his sword, and left.

--

Jengh and Frecor were waiting for him by the barracks, but first Deanna went outside of the capital, to the nearby woods. He wandered in deep enough that he was sure his brother's agent would not be shy about revealing himself.

He cleared his throat. "Dust?"

The leaves seemed to breathe forth the man. "I take it you have something that can't wait, Master Deanna?"

Deanna looked at him curiously. "Do... do you ever sleep?"

"At times. Now please state your business, or I'll return to my shadows."

"I want you to stay with Natasha and Carla while I'm gone."

Dust chuckled. "My prerogative in life is protecting you, Master Deanna. And even I can't be in two places at once."

"You'll protect me best by looking after them." His voice hardened. "Natasha and Carla... they're my family. Do you understand? Aside from my duty to Iom and to my brother's memory, they're the only thing that makes my life worthwhile. If they die... First I'll hunt down everyone responsible and make them pay. Then I'll make sure that Iom has a king who can keep the country stable." He took a heavy breath. "And then I'll end it. There will be no more reason good enough for me to go on."

"Suppose I don't believe you?"

"It's true. I..." A thought struck him. "And you care about protecting Carla, too, don't you? She's Hindel's niece... the closest thing he'll ever have to a child." He said it as an observation, not an argument.

"Don't presume that you know anything about me, Master Deanna."

Deanna cast his eyes to the branches beneath his feet. "I'm sorry. ...I understand how you feel... not liking other people to know things about you - or say they know things, I mean." He sighed. "Please. I'm doing what you wanted me to do... saving Iom. Even if protecting Natasha and Carla isn't what you want to do, and I think it is... can't you do it as a favor to me?"

"...You're a lot like your brother, you know," Dust remarked. "Except that he rarely said the things he meant."

He looked at Dust for a few moments. "Is that a yes?"

Dust chuckled, gave a nod, and disappeared back into the leaves.

--

"There ya are."

Deanna looked up. "I thought... you were waiting in the barracks, Frecor..."

"Just wanted to talk at you for a sec, man to man." He came beside Deanna and moved into step with him. Deanna slowed his strides so that Frecor's short legs could keep up. "How did your wife take it, all considered?"

Deanna pondered how to answer that succinctly. "...She accepted it very well. She's a strong person."

"It did upset her, then." He paused. "You'll be back for the birth, won't you?"

Deanna's brow furrowed. "Natasha's not due for three months, and even if... the worst happens, this search can't take more than one month. How could I not be back?"

"You be sure of that, no effort spared." He gave Deanna a sharp look. "When my wife was pregnant, I went off to prepare defenses against Cypress. Missed both our kids being born, same way."

It sounded like there was more, but Frecor did not continue. "And?" he prodded.

"Let's just say I immediately regretted it and I still regret it, long story short."

They came upon the barracks, where Lieutenant Jengh was waiting with arms folded. Behind him was a man with a priest's staff, and a surprisingly lean lizardman. That made Deanna a bit uncomfortable. Though he'd expected that Jengh's selection would be a lizardman, he had hoped his guess would prove wrong.

"This is Lym," Jengh introduced. "And Frecor's man, Wallor."

The name "Lym" struck Deanna as a bit feminine, and looking more carefully, he realized it was a lizardwoman. Without thinking, he remarked, "I thought you'd have picked someone... a bit more muscular."

Lym reddened. "I'm the fasssstest and mossst agile soldier in lieutenant Jengh'sss rankssss, I'll have you know! And the -"

"- leasssst strong," Jengh cut in, giving Lym a look. "You were worried about a traitor, therefore I give you the sssoldier who would be leassst capable of breaking you."

"I... I see. Thank you." The error he'd made with his comment did not escape him, and he said to the lizardwoman, "I wasn't questioning that you're the best person for the job. You look very... seasoned."

"Figured a healer would be the best person for the job, your survival being," Frecor said. "Wallor's good at his job, and a decent fighter."

"The horses are carrying three days worth of food, blankets, maps, and more than enough money," Jengh added. "If you need anything more, send us a message."

"Thank you." He looked at the horse with some trepidation. Though his brother had forced him into some rudimentary riding, he had never managed more than a slow trot, and the beasts still made him nervous. After a moment, he took a breath and mounted in one swift motion. He looked around himself, slightly dazed by his new height. Then, remembering one last thing, he looked down to Jengh and Frecor and said, "Can you please keep an eye on Lord Jared? He wouldn't do Natasha any harm - we wouldn't have been so safe these past few weeks otherwise - but I don't like the way he miscommunicated my intentions to Edwin. His excuse made sense, but I still don't..."

"We understand," Jengh said. "If he behaves susssspiciously, he'll be dealt with."

Deanna wasn't sure what that meant, but... "Thanks... both of you."

--

In spite of himself, Leifo was beginning to lose hope. Pasha still refused to reveal Prince Amelo's location, and no further leads had come up; the rest of Warderer's family were all deep in hiding, save those which had been killed or imprisoned upon the king's fall. He was beginning to wonder if Pasha in fact did know nothing, and certainly his... associate, for lack of a better word... was of no help at all. He was interested almost solely in this "ritual".

Leifo trusted that the ritual would satisfy Iom, but surely it was essential to preserve the nation that served him as well. And truth be told, Leifo felt a certain loyalty to his country that had no connection to its usefulness to his god. For those fools in the capital to try to resurrect a finished dynasty would be the end of any peace in the nation.

_But what can I do to stop it?_ he asked of Iom, kneeling before the statue on the altar. _I have limited men to search for Warderer's heir. If Pasha doesn't speak soon, I'll have no hope of finding him in time. I implore you, almighty Iom... show me the way..._

The heavy door of the shrine closed, and the sound echoed through the vast chamber, startling Leifo out of his prayer. He turned his head to see who had come in.

"You are high priest Leifo, correct?" It was a tall man, too shadowed over by the flickering candlelight to properly make out his features. His voice had a sort of sad desperation to it.

"I am," Leifo said, getting to his feet and giving a slight bow of his head. "How may I help you?"

"The first question should be, how may _I_ help _you_?" The man strode across the vast room, and as he got closer Leifo could see that he was surprisingly young, with a comely splash of hair. "Many people in Iom must be interested in where King Warderer's son is. Are you one of them?"

"Perhaps," Leifo said, wondering what the man's game was.

"You are Iom's high priest, so I thought you would be," the man said. "Well, then. You wanted to know how you can help me. Do you know of Deanna and Natasha?"

"I do."

"I want them dead."

Leifo started. "It so happens that I wouldn't mind having them dead myself, but are you not bold to openly state that you wish the deaths of two of the most popular people in Iom to a man who could have you executed with a wave of his hand?"

"I know a few things about you," the man said, with a confident smile. Leifo began to sweat; the man's dangerous topics of conversation, his brisk pace for that conversation, and his strange manner, were altogether unnerving. "You know the role those two played in Iom's defeat, and you are loyal to your god. In short, I guessed that you would not object to their deaths. But more importantly, I sincerely doubt you would have me executed knowing the valuable information I have for you."

"In exchange for Deanna and Natasha's deaths, I presume?"

The man shook his head. "There's no need for you to sully your hands. I only need access to their quarters... I will do the black deed myself."

"I don't strike bargains with strangers," Leifo said, rubbing at his wrists. "Tell me who you are and who sent you."

"I will not tell you anything about myself. Don't bother asking."

"Then I cannot help you." Leifo side-stepped towards the door, not daring to turn his back. "Leave as soon as you've made your offering to Iom, or I will have the guards escort you out."

"That's rash of you. I'm sure that, for the information I have, you'll be happy to bargain with a stranger."

"You mentioned King Warderer's son, so I assume you have some lead on his location. A half stale one, no doubt."

The man laughed. It sounded like a forced laugh, but even so, it made Leifo tremble. Were he in almost any other place than before Iom's sacred altar, he would have screamed for the guards a while ago. _Even a madman wouldn't dare attack me here._

"No, I wouldn't say that," the man said at the end of his laugh. He leaned in and whispered, "My 'lead' is the exact location of the house he lives in."


	11. Chapter 11: see inside for title

- Chapter 11: The Departure of a Diplomatic Mission -

"If you so much as hold hands with her, I'll kill you!"

Theo sighed, casting his gaze upwards, as though whatever he'd done to deserve this was written on his forehead. "I don't get what you're worried about. On top of everything else, she isn't even as pretty as you."

"As soon as you get away from here, she'll be the prettiest thing for as far as the eye can see - and don't think you can distract me with compliments!"

"Look, how could I be interested in any other girl when I've got you?" It was an honest question, but as soon as it left his mouth Theo realized that it would be interpreted as flattery, just as his last comment had been. To cover it, he blurted out, "Anyway, why would a snob like her even give me a glance?"

"I know Lana," Jane said, folding her arms and giving a dark look at the ground. "When she gets bored, she'll work her magic on _anyone_. And in case you hadn't noticed, you're the only guy in your group."

"I bet she'd sooner make a pass at Varmo than me."

"She'll go for whoever she thinks will give her a reaction."

"Look, I don't even want to be on this mission!" That was true. He was happy to serve Cypress, but his companions could scarcely have been worse. Dawn was alright, but Lana and Jaha had ridiculed him on plenty of occasions, and generally weren't the most mature people he'd known. His relations with Halron were awkward at best; he sympathized with the ill-treated beastman, but any attempts he made at friendliness to him were greeted with hostility. And Varmo... well, Theo still didn't like the things he'd done to become leader of Castle Cypress during King Nicholas and General Mayfair's absence, nor the decisions he'd made after becoming leader. More importantly, he didn't trust him or Halron.

"I tried to talk General Mayfair into letting me out of this for almost a half hour," Theo continued. "I don't know what you want from me. If anyone here should be suspicious, it's me. I'm leaving you with all the men in our squads, half of whom drool at you whenever they think I'm not looking, and the other half who drool even when they know I'm looking! How many minutes do you think it'll be before, say, Alex starts putting the moves on you?"

"Sure, try switching the problem to me," Jane huffed.

"What, I'm supposed to trust you with a dozen guys, but you won't trust me with one girl?"

"Hey, I don't know why you want to argue about this anyway. I really don't. If Dawn comes back and says you were a perfect gentleman, there's no problem. Why be so defensive, unless you want to make out with Lana first chance you get?"

"You're being crazy. I'm not even going to discuss this." He stalked off.

The other guards, plus the Lady Sarah and a couple attendants, were already ready. Only he and Lana were being waited on; they probably had more goodbyes to say than most of them.

"Ready, Theo?" Dawn asked.

"I -" Theo glanced back at Jane.

_If I leave things like this the whole time I'm gone, I'll lose her. ...Dammit._

He turned and jogged back to Jane, who raised an eyebrow at him in expectation. "Look," he said. "I promise nothing's going to happen between Lana and me, okay? That's all I can do."

"Okay, fine." There was a pause. "Aren't you going to ask me about not doing anything with the guys here?"

"If you wanted to break my heart, you could've done it with me still here. I trust you." He gave her a quick kiss. "Don't worry about me, alright? If we run into trouble, all I'll need to do is hide behind Dawn and Halron and I'll be alright."

"Sure," Jane said, unamused. "But you're a hero, and last I checked, heroes don't like hiding behind other people. They like picking fights with people stronger than them, jumping in the way of dangerous weapons, stuff like that."

_Never bothered you before,_ he thought, but kept it to himself. _She seems more than reasonably worried about the possibility of danger; not a good idea to make light of that._ "I won't be a hero, okay?" He laid his hands briefly on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "Take care. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too..."

He expected more than a little mockery when he rejoined his companions, but Jaha was the only one snickering. Lana, though, was watching him with a disturbing expression, somewhere between amusement and interest, like appraising a particularly talented jester with the consideration of hiring him.

"I'm glad you did that, Theo," Dawn said to him softly. "Jane's very fragile."

"In some ways, yeah..." In truth, he suspected Jane was more manipulative than fragile. Not that he blamed her.

"Our supplies are all packed," the Lady Sarah announced. "Dawn, you will walk by the wagon's left side. Varmo, take the right. Halron will act as scout. The rest of you may ride in the wagon for now."

Theo briefly pictured a wagon ride with Lana, Jaha, and Lady Sarah. "Excuse me, Lady Sarah," he put in, "...would it be alright if I took a guard position for now?"

She looked him over. "I don't see any reason why not. You understand that this does not necessarily mean you'll get a rest later?"

Theo nodded, and Varmo quickly volunteered to surrender his place at the right of the wagon. The guards then proceeded to retrieve their weapons from the pile where they had been laid out. After picking up his bo, Theo stood by Dawn and watched the others climb onto the wagon. He noted that, aside from Jaha making some idle chatter with Varmo, none of them had much to say to each other.

He looked to Halron, and said, with an edge of sympathy, "It looks like you get the most dangerous job."

Halron shook his head. "It may be hard for you to grasp, but my skills are more than adequate for this."

Theo watched as the beastman walked away, wondering whether his hostility stemmed from genuine dislike, a fear that anyone who came near him would wind up in trouble, or just plain lack of social grace.

Then the wagon began to gradually roll forward, and Theo took several long strides to keep up.

--

"Didn't expect this to be quite so bumpy," Lana remarked.

She received no reply. Lady Sarah gave her a brief, disinterested glance with one eye, as though she were a fly buzzing about, and resumed reviewing the papers on her lap. Jaha just folded his arms and slumped a little bit more in his seat, plainly not interested in Lana's complaints. Varmo surveyed it all quietly, giving an expression that acknowledged her comment without necessarily agreeing to it.

They made a bit of an odd bunch, Varmo decided, but not one without potential. There was a touch of interest in each of them, too. Jaha was presumably bored, and wishing he had his friends Eric and Luke with him. He really wasn't a very difficult fellow to read - he didn't try to be. He was a follower, and he'd follow wherever his friends went.

Which meant that if he won Dawn's allegiance, he'd gain Jaha's as well. Dawn, of course, was more difficult to pin down. There was a certain coldness in her nature, it seemed, but it was far from complete - next to Binuto, she seemed positively warm and emotional. Unlike Jaha, she avoided any acclaim for her heroism in the war against Iom. Glory would not appeal to her. Strength was perhaps the one thing she respected... after integrity, he added. He did not have the latter, but could certainly pretend to it.

Lana was a much simpler catch. She had neither courage nor love for any sort of struggle; she would follow any who would lead.

Halron... there was a matter he wasn't sure where he stood with. What Halron had tried with Barro was stupid. Stupider than he had ever seemed capable of, in fact. Halron had explained it as an act of desperation... he wasn't sure whether he believed that. Varmo had lost his power, and the copy of "Apex of the World" he'd gifted to Halron had had to be returned, so what reason had Halron to support him anymore?

It was all his own failing, Varmo realized now. He'd miscalculated, first in his belief that King Nicholas and General Mayfair weren't coming back (though overall he was relieved that they had returned safe). Being stripped of all leadership had seemed horribly unjust at the time, but that too was a miscalculation of his; he had somehow judged wrong in his dealing with Guardiana. Woldol had showed him he was wrong about what it took to be a leader, and now King Nicholas had showed him that he was wrong on what a leader's responsibilities are. He couldn't quite understand where he'd been wrong, but then that was the benefit of this journey. His Royal Highness surely respected Lady Sarah's diplomatic skills, so he could learn a lot by observing her at the court of Emild.

That was the key. He thought he'd learned it all, but there was apparently more to learn. Once he'd learned it all, then he would be ready to return to the struggle.

Which was the second key, he supposed: a leader must fight and claw his way to the top. _I let myself forget that, believed that all it took was the right place, the right time, and a convenient absence to put me in the role where I belong. Not being ready for the position was bad enough, but giving up at the first setback was sheer hypocrisy._

_So much opportunity abounds, after all. The experience I'll pick up here alone will be useful, and there is surely some way I can insert myself into the negotiations. That can only be more credit for me when I get back. Hopefully the people of Emild won't be hostile; that would ruin any chance for me to get renown that way. To say nothing of the threat to life or limb. I have a good handle on offensive magics, but combat just doesn't come natural to me._

"Huk!"

Varmo frowned at the strange grunt, and looked up from his musings. His eyes widened. Lana was sitting opposite from him, and the first thing he noticed was the arrow piercing through her just to the left of her shoulder.


	12. Chapter 12: A Day in the Court of Emild

- Chapter 12: A Day in the Court of Emild -

"You look weary, Your Majesty," May remarked.

"Weary? No..." the young king said, putting a hand to his forehead. "It's just... something's been bothering me."

It looked as though he could barely keep his head up. Rather than gracing the throne with his majestic presence the way his father had, King Ian seemed to rely entirely upon the throne to keep him at all upright. And yet... he did have his father's handsome features, his kindly face, his soft mop of brown hair. He would have assumed the throne with grace under normal circumstances, May concluded. It was grief that crushed him, not kingship. Even his little sister Emilia, sitting by his side and unobtrusively bearing his right hand in both of hers, was not enough moral support for him to sit up proudly.

King Ian studied the floor at his feet, taking his time. "May, you fought beside Chester in the war with Iom. What do you think of him? Is he trustworthy?"

Strange questions such as these were issued by the king so often now that May scarcely felt surprise. "He is as good and true a citizen of Emild as any I've known, Your Majesty."

"Yes. And yet..." He frowned. "He claims that my father, in the last months of his reign, was actually an impersonator named Gordon."

"That is correct, Your Majesty."

The king looked up. "You saw it? You saw Gordon reveal himself?"

"I... no, Your Majesty." _Why is he asking all this? Chester and I made our report over half a year ago._ "But I noticed how strangely the 'king' behaved in the last months of his reign, how unlike himself he was, and I confronted Gordon in his own guise when the Cypress army put an end to him. And in all the time since then that I have been acquainted with Chester, I have seen every reason to believe his word."

"'Every reason'? Have you forgotten that he was spotted rifling through my desk? He may well have been trying to destroy that seditious letter from Lord Albert and rescue him from his just sentence."

"Chester was framed for that deed, Your Majesty. There are those who are jealous of the glory he has earned -"

"You accuse the one who witnessed Chester there, do you?" King Ian abruptly sat forward in his throne, gripping the arm rests enough to make the veins in his hands stand out. "And who are you to judge how strangely the king was behaving? Do you tell me I do not know my own fath-"

"Ian, no," Emilia pleaded, clasping his arm to restrain him. "Please, Ian, don't get upset. You're just making yourself sick."

"I -" Ian clenched his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and sighed back into his slumped position. "Thank you, Emilia."

May looked at him anxiously. _Too young. He's too young to deal with any of this. He hasn't the strength, and that's endangering him. Nor the wisdom, and that endangers all of Emild. His siblings could have been enough support for him, but they spend most of their time quarreling with each other. Ian has to take care of them just as he has to take care of Emild._

May cleared her throat. "I didn't mean to accuse anyone in particular, Your Majesty. I only know that Chester is innocent."

"Yes, yes, so you say." He waved her off. "Enough of this. You are dismissed."

She felt sure that to have summoned her, King Ian must have had more to discuss than just that. But there was no use arguing with him when he became like this. She bowed her head to him and left.

_But something must be done. His condition would be bad under ordinary circumstances, but the wrong people have his ear. That new advisor of his, Akon or something... Sir Elric, who saw fit to accuse Chester... his old nursemaid, Helen... all of them building up his suspicions. Against Cypress, in particular; they're Emild's only traditional allies, and if -_

"May?"

She turned to face the very elf just under discussion. "Hello, Chester."

He grabbed hold of her arm and began pulling her down the hall. "Over here."

May quietly let herself be pulled along, though Chester's markedly undersized stature made the whole thing feel a bit foolish. He led them to a small study and pushed her inside. He closed and latched the door behind them.

"May I help you?" she asked, giving him a look that suggested he might have been standing on his head too long.

"As you've just discovered, no, you can't," Chester replied. "And you should stop trying."

May looked at him for a moment, and the meaning of his words sunk in. "Chester," she gasped. "You were listening in?"

"Even if someone did spot me, it's not as though I can possibly make things worse for myself." He folded his arms. "You have a bad habit of throwing yourself in danger for your comrades, May. You're doing it now. If you keep defending me before His Royal Highness, he'll turn his suspicions on you."

"I have to," May insisted. "This is my fault. I'm the one who told you to steal those papers from his desk."

"It's not as though you had the stealth to fetch them yourself. And you told me it was important."

"It's very important," she agreed. "I needed to see his correspondence and such, to see how far he's gone, and maybe determine who's pushing him there. I wasn't able to turn up much from looking them over, but the information still could help." She paused. "You did get all the papers back in his desk, didn't you?"

"Yes. It's ironic that that's how I was caught. What exactly _did_ you learn?"

"That it's not as bad as I'd thought. He's only been stonewalling Cypress thus far, so perhaps he realizes his limits. On the other hand, as far as anyone being a negative influence on him... it appears that they're all here, right within reach of his ear. His advisor panders to His Royal Highness's suspicions in every proposal he makes."

"Your influence with him isn't as strong," Chester pointed out. "And if you want to keep what influence you have, you'd better agree with any accusations he makes against me. It was my choice to go into that desk, May. Don't get yourself thrown into a cell with me. For Emild's sake, you've got to stay in King Ian's good graces and be a guiding hand for him. Please."

May looked him over. He would really do it - lay his life down for the good of Emild. Never knowing... May closed her eyes with firm resolve. She had to tell him. "Chester... there's a..."

--

"...conspiracy against me. I'm sure of it," Ian sighed to his little sister. "And it's beginning to look as though May is involved."

"But she seems so nice," Emilia protested. "I've known her for as long as I can remember."

He forced a smile. Emilia was the youngest of his siblings, and still so innocent. "Sometimes people aren't quite who you think they are. When father died, the Emild throne lost a lot of its power. The Cypressians could have made May very tempting offers." He noted her blank expression. "That means she may have decided to work for Cypress."

A knock at the door to the royal hall interrupted. "Your Majesty? Your, ah, emissary has returned."

"Send her in." He said it casually, but his "emissary" had been gone for three months, and he trembled with excitement to hear how her mission had gone, and for more... ephemeral reasons. He straightened up in his throne and adjusted the crown on his head.

She walked in, not with the nymph-like grace commonly associated with her species, but with a bearing of pride and strength. The blond hair falling over her shoulder was ratty and unkempt, but its luminous shine drew his gaze nonetheless. Others might have said that her loose clothing was an insult to the lines of her figure, but to Ian her lithe elven shape was as clear as ever. Best of all, her eyes sparked with a fire and life that was no less dim than when they'd first met, even though the fire in his own eyes had long since died.

"It is good to see you, Helen," he said, deciding that keen understatement was his best course for expressing such feelings.

Her boots clicked loudly through the room, their harmony heedless of decorum. He loved it. Ever since he'd become king, everyone assumed a rigid properness around him that was stifling. But well before she reached his throne, she fell down on one knee.

"Your Majesty... I have failed." The shame in her voice shocked him more than the words, and Ian remained silent. "I misjudged our 'helper' in Castle Cypress; he betrayed us. I've spent the past months trying to penetrate the castle on my own, to no avail. The castle is thinly manned, but General Mayfair's defensive system made it impossible for me to enter without being seen. And now, I return only to bring you word that some diplomats from Cypress are on their way. I understand and accept that my life is forfeit for this failure."

"What? Don't... don't speak nonsense," the king stammered. "You've... you've served m... my family for decades. It would take nothing less than high treason to justify ending that in... in such a manner."

"What is the essential difference, Your Majesty, between failing such a vital mission, and treason?"

"Helen, please... stop it. I implore you." Emilia took hold of his hand, and it occurred to Ian that he was now standing. "You did your duty, brought me back this news. You're one of the few people I'm sure _hasn't_ betrayed me. And please don't call me 'your majesty'. You cared for me as a child."

Helen came slowly to her feet. "Then... am I to judge by your amiable manner... that there has been good news in my absence?"

"On the contrary," he sighed. "It seems your suspicions against Chester were right after all. He was caught invading my desk." He bowed his head and screwed up his face, struggling for reason. "I can't understand it. Why now? He's had ample time since I became king to betray me..."

Helen lit up with alarm. "Your Majesty, the Cypressian diplomats! Cypress must have sent him word that they'd be coming. He's gathering information for them!"

"Gods..." he breathed, her deduction stunning him. "That _would_ explain the timing. Who knows what useful information he's given them? Cypress already has the edge of military muscle in our deliberations. With this on their side..."

"Emilia!" Ian started. His brother Kay had burst into the room unannounced. "What have you done with my poems?"

"Burned them," Emilia answered, sticking her tongue out at him. "That's what you get for pulling off my dolly's arms."

Kay was stricken for just a moment, and then lunged at her, fury in his eyes. "I'll kill you, you little snot!"

Emilia bolted, screaming, "Eeeeeee-an! Help!"

Ian put out a hand. "Kay... Kay, wait just a moment..."

His brother didn't even slow down. Emilia rounded Ian's throne and made a break for the room's only door, Kay hard on her trail.

"Get back here, you two!" Ian roared, getting up off his throne to pursue them.

"Your Majesty, please, don't concern yourself with those two," Helen said, clasping her hands in petition. "The guards will take care of them, and we have affairs of state to discuss."

Ian sighed and sat back down, resting his face in one hand. "Those two will be the death of me," he muttered. _To think, that Kay will take the throne if I die!_

Helen pressed on, "You should interrogate Chester immediately, find -"

"I can't. Only one person saw him in my desk, and Chester claims innocence. A court would never imprison him; it's one word against another. And as long as he's free, Chester can refuse to answer any questions."

For a moment Helen was speechless. "...You should study the law more, Your Majesty. Did you not know that the king may have even a guiltless person imprisoned if it's a matter of Emild's survival?"

"I... must have overlooked that," Ian blushed. "I'll arrange that, then. ...You see? You're invaluable to Emild. It would have been at attack against Emild to have you executed. And..."

He stopped there. She was watching him with her head just slightly tilted, and that fond look that she bore for him. There was something wonderful about that familiar face... that face unaltered by time. It was the same exact face he remembered from his childhood. From the time when his father was alive, there was nothing in the kingdom to worry about, and his whole world was play and innocence...

Not just the same face, he reminded himself, but the whole figure. Like all elves, she would not age until the day she died. Helen was a living memory of his childhood. Her shimmering hair and the curves of her legs and torso were unchanged... only with his maturity, he noticed them more, and -

"Your Majesty?"

He shook his head. What he was thinking was senseless; a king could not marry one so low in social stature. Still, if he should ever have occasion to use a concubine... _Gods, Ian, stick to the subject at hand. You may not even live to be married!_

"What if the information Chester has isn't useful enough, though?" he finished, satisfying Helen's increasingly concerned look, but replacing it with one of hesitation, almost caution.

"Your Majesty..." she said at last. "You understand that whoever these diplomats and those who accompany them are, they are more than likely seeking to put Emild - and you - under Cypress's thumb? That they are, in essence, enemies of Emild?"

"Of course, of course. They're invaders, in fact. I gave them no permission to trespass within Emild's borders. I'll ready an army -"

"That's not what I meant, Your Majesty," Helen interrupted. "The Cypress expedition may be invaders, but they're not a conquering force, at least not technically. Sharland and Tyber probably wouldn't look kindly on us defending ourselves against them. Besides, maybe all Cypress really wants is an excuse for war... attacking a diplomatic mission would do it."

"Blast. If only we could expose their lies..." He clenched his fist. "What do you suggest, then? Even if they were coming in friendship, I haven't the foggiest idea of how to handle these sorts of exchanges."

"I have... something of an unorthodox idea, Your Majesty," she admitted. "But we're running out of time."

--

May was already looking unsteady, but Chester certainly didn't expect her to slump forward in mid-sentence. He caught her by the shoulder before she could fall over. "May! Are you alright?"

"Umm," she hummed. Her head lolled from side to side.

"May? May?"

He tried a light slap on the cheek, and she finally responded, blearily shaking her head. "Chester... what...?"

"You just... You were about to say something, and you keeled over all of a sudden."

"Oh." She stood back up, wiped a hand across her face. "I must be... coming down with something. I'm fine now."

"You'd better get some rest." She gave an unsteady nod. "And remember what I said. You've seen how many people King Ian's imprisoned already. Don't give him an excuse to add you to that list."

May brushed a hand over the fur on her head. "If you're resigned to His Royal Highness condemning you to prison, why don't you leave for Cypress, and tell King Nicholas about all this?"

Chester shrugged. "What's to tell him? I know what King Ian is doing now, but I can't tell what he'll do next. I won't be able to tell Cypress anything of use, and when I flee, King Ian will assume I went to them. It'll just be more fire for his suspicions. More fire for his enmity towards Cypress."

The look May gave him was sad, but she had no argument. "Perhaps you're right. And Nicholas is bound to want to deal with Emild before long... I hope you can hold out until then."

She turned and opened the door, looking carefully for anyone wandering by before stepping out.

Chester sighed. _You're a good man, King Ian. I know how it looks, but you must have something of your father in you. I just hope you appreciate that I'm standing by you until the end._


	13. Chapter 13: An Exchange of Hostilities

- Chapter 13: An Exchange of Hostilities -

Theo idly twiddled with his staff as the wagon moved along, his thoughts turning away from their dreary march, back to Castle Cypress. Back to Jane.

_We've been together so long now... I never thought about it before, but it seems time to take the next step. We're adults now, more or less, and if I do alright on this mission, I'll have earned enough honor that she can stand by me with pride. It all fits together... I should propose when I get back._

The trouble was, his heart honestly wasn't in the idea. He couldn't see any reason not to marry Jane, but he just didn't feel any strong compulsion to do so. There was no sense of joy over the horizon, no -

He shook his head. _I'm being stupid. Jane's the best woman I could ever hope to marry - heck, the best woman any man could hope to marry - and I can't think of anyone I could be happier with. Waiting to be struck with desire like a steel arrow from a crossbow is just naive daydreaming._

A strange whistle through the air made him frown. Still, he remained immersed in his own thoughts until he heard Lady Sarah's cry.

"We're under attack! Guards, battle positions! Drive them off! ...Varmo? Varmo! Didn't you hear me!?"

Shaken from his thoughts, Theo looked around to see arrows suddenly flying at them from every side, mainly concentrated on the wagon. He swore to himself as he ran to join Dawn. _What the blazes happened to Halron?_

----------------------

Varmo knew he should be moving - helping fend off the attack, or at least finding some cover to avoid getting impaled by an arrow himself. Several more had punched through the canvas of the wagon already. But he could not pull his eyes away from Lana, clutching at the arrow lodged in her breast while Sarah tried to pull it out. Blood already soaked through her clothes.

"It hurts," Lana kept moaning, tears running from her eyes. "It hurts."

"You've got to let go of it, Lana. We can't heal it until I pull it out. Varmo, if you don't move in the next ten -"

Varmo didn't get to hear the rest, because a hand grabbed him by the scruff of his robes and yanked him out of the wagon. "Come on, bud," Jaha's voice urged.

He squirmed, more in reaction than anything else, and ended up hitting the hard ground with his bottom as a reward. Muttering an oath, he rolled onto his hands and knees. The one good fortune to fall to him was that he was still holding onto his staff.

"Need you to get it together, Varmo," Jaha went on, and Varmo looked up to see the dwarf holding his shield before the two of them. He scuttled up behind it on hands and knees. "There's only four of us, and they're shooting arrows like a bunch 'a cowards."

"Drop something, Varmo?"

He looked up to see Dawn smirking down at him, Theo standing close beside her. It occurred to him that he was being ridiculed. Not practiced in the experience, and not really having anything to say in his defense, he simply lowered his eyes. _She'll pay for that later,_ he consoled himself.

"Didn't we talk about yer sense of humor before, Dawn?" Jaha snapped. "We can't just stand here and be targets..."

"Yes," Dawn said, sobering. "You shield Varmo, and I'll keep Theo covered. We'll advance on them as quickly as we can, before they can hit the Lady Sarah or her assistants. Let's go!"

They headed towards the source of the arrow fire, Jaha moving surprisingly fast on his dwarven legs, hopping along from one foot to the other at such a rate that Varmo had to scurry to keep up, or else stand up and thus lose the benefit of Jaha's shield. He realized, too late, that there had been an opportunity to command the four of them into battle, and he had allowed Dawn to seize it.

_Just as well. My head was all in a panic; I'd have probably said something foolish. This pressure is too sudden - I need time to prepare for -_

"Axe-wielders and swordsmen coming!" Dawn called out. "Varmo, you've got to wear them down with something, or they'll overwhelm us!"

_Wonderful. Wonderful, wonderful. If only I'd learned some of the higher level Spark spells, so that I could reach those archers... If I stand up now to aim a spell, Jaha's shield won't reach high enough to protect me from the arrows. But if I don't, the main troops will swarm over us all._

He gritted his teeth. Putting himself in harm's way wasn't an easy proposition; death terrified him. But their training had taught them to overcome those fears. He stood, set his eyes on a close line of three enemies, and cried out "Blaze!"

Flames burst among the enemy, the level 3 spell tearing through them. Varmo felt a wave of revulsion at seeing his magic burn through human flesh, but the frantic course of the battle swept any potential thoughts of remorse from his mind. Jaha closed in, swinging his axe at the burning men. Dawn thrust her lance into the swordsmen untouched by the flames, dancing about their counter-strokes with an agility that was beautiful to watch. Theo swung his bo at the skulls of the dwarves, whose height placed them almost completely out of Dawn's reach.

It was encouraging to see his comrades fight with such ferocity, but they were not stopping the enemy archers from raining arrows down on them. Indeed, Varmo noticed that they were no longer focusing their fire on the wagon, preferring to take down the soldiers who most threatened them. There was no chance to focus on eliminating the archers, either; the close range fighters kept coming at him, even as he frantically cast level 1 Blaze spells to repel them. Under such heavy attack, he wished more than anything that Halron were there to fight with him. The odds would have been dire enough even with him at their side.

A gasp escaped Varmo's mouth as a hand clasped around his ankle. One of the wounded enemies was trying to pull him down.

_Aggravating._ He stamped at the source of his trouble with his staff, making bruises on the man's skull, until something in the corner of his eye made him turn. A dwarf was bearing down on him, far too near for him to cast a spell. Varmo squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for the blow.

There was a loud crunch, and a scream, but neither was his. He opened his eyes to see Jaha pulling his axe free for another blow.

Exhilarated to still be alive, Varmo opened his mouth for a cheer. "Son of a -"

He bit his tongue to cut off the last word as he fell to his knees, clutching at the arrow piercing his right arm.

"Varmo! You alright there, bud?" Jaha called.

Gritting his entire face together, Varmo nodded, though he half-wished for the relief of oblivion. The pain was actually not so bad - it was bearable, at any rate - but the humiliation was worse than any suffering he'd felt before. _On my stinking knees before them, having just spewed out the larger part of a coarse obscenity... Gods, how they must be laughing at me! I can practically hear them ridiculing the idea of someone so lowly thinking himself proper enough to lead them._

To say nothing of the indignity of the arrow in his arm. Wounded in the duties of a common soldier... it was an outrage. _This is not the way it's supposed to be... this is not the field I'm supposed to prove myself on..._

But enemy warriors were still coming at them. It had to stop. Steeling himself for one last effort, Varmo pushed himself up slightly, reached out with his trembling uninjured arm, and cast another Blaze spell into the fray. That done, he closed his eyes and waited for the humiliation to end, either with their victory or with his death. He'd done all he could, he told himself.

"They're fleeing!" he heard Jaha cry. He kept his eyes closed.

"Come on, let's grab Theo and Varmo and get out of here," Dawn said. "We haven't got the manpower to hunt them down."

"Yer lookin' at me? I can't lift them onto your back, and I'm sure not dragging the two of them all the way back to the wagon!"

He felt hands - Theo's, presumably - clamp around his arms and begin to lift. Then there was a voice, right by his ear. "I've got them." Varmo opened one eye at that voice. It was Halron. The heat of battle gone from his head, Varmo's mind began working calmly and rationally again, and he wondered about his earlier absence.

Halron lifted him onto Dawn's back, and he gave him a nod. "Thank you."

Halron next gathered Theo into his arms. The human was still conscious, but covered in blood from several wounds, and breathing very shallow. His blood pooled onto the ground in such steady streams that Varmo began to feel nauseous.

As they approached the wagon, Lady Sarah popped her head out. "Two wounded, I see," she remarked. "Load them in quickly, Halron; we've got to get moving before those raiders attack again. Dawn, keep a lookout. The rest of you can board the wagon if you wish."

Halron stepped onto the wagon and into the cabin, handling Theo like a silver platter with a dozen glasses of expensive wine balanced on it. After a moment's consideration, Varmo decided that the best impression he could give of himself in that moment was to _not_ have to be carried onto the wagon. He shoved himself off of Dawn's back, giving a loud huff as he landed on the hard wood. _Gods, this blasted thing hurts._

"You shouldn't have done that," Halron remarked as he climbed within the canvas tent. "With that arrow still in you, you could have injured yourself." His friend sounded more reprimanding than concerned. But then, to be honest, he didn't sound concerned at all.

Varmo took a seat, and turned his head at the sound of Jaha scrambling aboard. Just before coming all the way in, the dwarf called outside, "Hey Dawn! How many did you get?"

_How many...? Ugh. To be so crude as to tally that... bloodshed..._

There was the sound of a command barked to the horses, and the wagon seat once again began rumbling beneath him. He looked over at Lana, and was relieved to see that Sarah had succeeded in healing the girl. She was still trembling, however, as Lady Sarah took hold of her by the arms.

"They... they're trying to kill us..." she kept on stammering.

"Get a hold of yourself, Lana," Sarah said sternly. "Theo is injured; I need you to heal him."

Seeming to calm somewhat for the moment, Lana leaned forward and got a look at Theo. She paled. "Oh gods... oh gods..."

"Lana."

She was hyperventilating. "Oh gods... oh gods..."

"Can you not heal him yourself, Lady Sarah?" Halron interjected with well-veiled impatience - Varmo doubted he would have noticed if he hadn't known him so well.

"Lana needs her training," Sarah explained. "She's a healer; her skills can't be practiced in simple drills like a fighter or a mage. Besides, I know more powerful healing spells than her, and I need to conserve my energy for them in case those raiders attack again." She tightened her grip on Lana's arms. "Lana. Listen to me. You can heal him."

"No, no... no... oh gods he's dying he's dying we're all going to -"

"Lana!"

Lady Sarah struck her hard against her face. The blow was loud enough to make Varmo hop back on his seat.

Lana raised a trembling hand to her cheek. It looked as though a bruise was already forming. There was not even a whisper of speech in the wagon, as they all sat in shocked silence at the Lady Sarah's show of discipline.

"Your comrade is lying close to death. You will immediately cease your childish hysterics and tend to his wounds, or I assure you that your dishonor will follow you until the day you die. Do I make myself clear, young lady?"

Lana nodded, seemingly incapable of further speech, and moved to lay her hands on Theo. Her magic released into him, and his most serious wounds began slowly closing.

"Tend to Varmo when you're done there," Lady Sarah instructed.

"Let me remove that arrow while she's working," Halron said, putting one hand on Varmo's right shoulder and the other on the arrow's shaft.

"Leave it," Varmo said nervously. "You've never done this before."

"It has to come out. Lana hasn't the strength to do it, and it isn't the Lady Sarah's job to take care of your every nick and bruise." He gave a sharp yank, and the tip of the arrow came out, taking a small chunk of flesh with it. Varmo yelped, more in shock than in pain. "There. All done." Halron returned to his seat.

"Hey, Halron," Jaha spoke up. "Where were you during the attack, anyway?"

"There were a lot more archers than you were aware of," Halron answered. "I could have returned to the wagon to warn you all, but I thought it more important to take care of as many as I could. I was able to slip about without them ever locating me, so after I saw you were confronting the enemies, I decided to take advantage of that and try to locate the enemy leader."

"Of course. It makes sense that you'd do something like that." Varmo kept his voice clear of any sarcastic tone, knowing that Halron was the only one in the group who knew him well enough to recognize how uncharacteristic it was of him to make such unnecessary comments. Halron glanced at him in response to the subtly voiced suspicion, but said nothing.

"Didn't find him, huh?" Jaha asked.

"I'm afraid not," Halron returned, returning his gaze to Theo. Just as one of his major wounds seemed almost healed, it re-opened. Sweat ran down Lana's brow.

"Do you need any help, Lana?" Varmo inquired.

She shook her head, though it seemed not an answer to his question but an attempt to shake off increasing agitation. "I've never had to keep up the flow of my heal magic this long before... I don't know how I should make his skin knit back together." She shook her head again.

Varmo fidgeted. _A good chance for a leader to step forward... to find a solution, or at least give her the encouragement she needs to do the job. But I just can't think of any ideas. Ugh. What is it about blood loss that makes it so hard to put your mind to any problem?_

Lady Sarah came to sit by Lana, instructing her in her task.

"That was a pretty narrow escape, wasn't it?" Jaha remarked to no one in particular. "Hope they don't hit us again."

Varmo swallowed. What if they _did_ attack again? His magical energies were almost exhausted; he'd be next to useless in a fight. Theo was out, and by the looks of things Lana would be busy with him for a few minutes yet. That left only Dawn, Jaha, and Halron to defend the expedition.

He glanced at his friend. _Or maybe just Dawn and Jaha..._

----------------------

"How long has he been gone?" Natasha asked the serving girl as she set down her lunch before her.

"Five days, milady."

She sighed to herself; it had felt like much longer. Her pregnancy played havoc with her sleeping habits, so she had lost her natural sense of the passage of time. The only thing to mark the time was the thoughts she had of Deanna.

Not that it was as painful being without him as she had feared. Much as distance separated them, in the most lasting sense he was still very close. She knew that he loved her, that he was thinking of her just as she was thinking of him, and that he would be returning to her. There was little pain at their being apart, nothing like what she had felt when he had planned to leave Cypress without her. Only a dreariness and sort of boredom, and even that was alleviated by the visits she received from Lady Anasta. She and her husband were also working on trying to have children, and Natasha got on well with her.

Nonetheless, their friendship was no substitute for Deanna's near-constant companionship. She had long grown used to being able to tell him all her thoughts, no matter how foolish. In recent months she had grown used to making love with him as well, and she was beginning to pine for the unequaled pleasure he gave her and their shared joy at achieving a physical bond as close as their emotional one.

Deanna's attentions had emotionally spoiled her, Natasha admitted. The thought could bring an amused smile to her face, for she knew that unhappy as she was now, soon he would again be spoiling her rotten.

"Are there any letters for me?" she asked the serving girl. She had been expecting something from Hal and Shim, having sent them an update on their situation and answers to several questions of theirs two weeks ago.

"Not today, milady."

"I'm not a noblewoman," she protested. "I'm no better than you."

"You're Lord Jared's guest, milady," the girl answered. "That is enough to place you above the common folk." She bowed and left.

Natasha sighed again. Hard as she tried, the servant girl would not be friendly with her, not even sharing her name. No one had ever treated as anything but a commoner before, and she could honestly say that she didn't like the change. Not just because of the isolation, but because she felt herself to be too plain and humble for such treatment. She had come to Castle Cypress as a poor orphan looking to help people, and she never wanted to be anything other than that. She never wanted to be so far above the common folk that she couldn't see their problems. Just one more reason why she wanted her and Deanna to get out of this place and back to their aid workers as soon as they could.

Carla stirred within her, giving a light kick. Natasha's heart immediately lightened. Her little girl was growing so strong, and she already seemed to appreciate the sound of her mother's voice. She stroked the surface of her womb and said, "Lunch time, Carla," taking a couple of slices of fruit from the plate the serving girl had left and munching on them. She herself wasn't especially in the mood to eat, but she had to keep herself and the baby nourished.

"I know you miss your daddy, Carla. But he'll be back before too long, and mommy's still here..."

This, she realized, was another way in which Deanna was still close. Carla had sprung from them both. As long as she was with her, a part of Deanna was as well.

After finishing her lunch, she announced, "You know, Carla, I think I should write a letter to Mayfair. I haven't seen her in... half a year? We've been so busy, haven't we?" She got out of bed very slowly, planting both feet firmly on the ground before even beginning to lift the upper half of her body and keeping one hand protectively over her womb through the whole process.

"She'd probably be happy to hear something from me," she said as she seated herself at the desk and took paper from a drawer. "And I know she'd want to hear about you! She did put a lot into bringing your father and I together, so in a way, we have her to thank for your being here! It'll make her happy to know things turned out so well."

She took up her pen to write. Carla settled herself for the moment.

The words flowed swiftly from her pen, as the two excitements of communicating with Mayfair again and the number of things she had to share with her took hold of Natasha. She ended up filling four sheets, squeezing her signature in on the last page. Looking the letter over she realized that she'd rambled a bit too long about Deanna and far too long about Carla, but decided to leave it as is. It would show to Mayfair how excited and happy she was to have them both, she decided, and it would help make their current struggles over Iom's kingship seem unimportant by comparison.

She was about to fold the letter together when a knock came at the door. "A guest for you, milady. Gentleman named Brehen."

_Strange... Why would anyone think I would invite in a stranger? Maybe he's someone I met at a banquet and I just forgot, but... it could be a desperate trick from one of our enemies. _"I don't know him. You can tell the guards to send him away."

"Lord Jared personally recommended him, milady. A good friend of a good friend, he says, who has a petition for you."

Natasha frowned. "Is that all you know about him?"

"Well, he's a commoner, milady, from one of Iom's small outlying towns. There's nothing much to say about him."

That caught Natasha's interest. If he was a petitioner from a small town, it could be that he'd come to her about people suffering, perhaps to a worse extent than normal, from the things their team of aid workers were trying to fix. She couldn't possibly turn him away. Besides, "a good friend of a good friend" of Lord Jared's wasn't likely to be a supporter of Warderer's legacy.

"Give me a minute; I'm not completely decent," she called. With her pregnancy near its peak, and Deanna gone, she only bothered to change into something more than her nightgown when Lady Anasta came to visit. It was easier to just stay in bed most of the time, and crawl back under the covers if the serving girl dropped in when she happened to be up. Even now, she didn't feel in the mood to go through the trouble of getting changed. Setting her letter aside, she climbed back into bed and announced that Brehen could be sent in.

The serving girl opened the door, and a tall, weary-looking man stepped in. As the door was closed behind him, Natasha gestured to a chair. "Please, sit down. I'm sorry, I'm really not in the shape for..."

"Yes, so I see," the man said, pulling the chair up to her bedside and seating himself. "It's true, then. You _are_ pregnant."

He sounded sad. Natasha wondered if he was incapable of siring children. "May I help you?"

"Has he started kicking yet?"

Natasha's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Your baby. Has he started kicking?"

"She. Yes, she has." _I wish I could ask what his interest is. It's probably a sensitive issue for him, though... I'd better just hear him out._

"She?" he echoed with surprise. "A girl? You're sure?"

"The midwife used a View spell," she explained, feeling a bit awkward at this increasingly odd questioning.

"Yes, I see. I've been fearing the worst for so long, I assumed it would be your first child..."

"Sir?"

"But... it still could be. The midwife might have been mistaken. Or perhaps the girl disguised herself - will disguise herself, rather - as a man. Mythology is full of heroes who lost everything because they overlooked some highly improbable threat... isn't it?"

"Sir? I thought you came to ask me to help the people in your village..." she prodded.

"Indeed, people are in danger," he said. "Violent killings, torture, and slavery to terrible invaders. We have to stop it."

"An attack?" She hadn't expected anything like this. "I'm not sure I can help... most of the people here wouldn't follow my orders." To most of the important people in the capital, she was still little more than Deanna's wife. They acknowledged that she had done as much as him to overthrow Warderer and provide aid to the impoverished towns of Iom, but she was still a foreigner, whereas Deanna was the brother of one of Iom's most accomplished generals. "There's Lieutenants Jengh and Frecor, but at least one of them has to stay here, maybe both. If you'll wait, though, my husband should be back in just a couple weeks with Iom's new king."

Brehen just shook his head. "That will do no good. The new king will just become a puppet for your child."

"Sir?" She sat up slightly on her pillows, unnerved - not just by his words, but his tone of voice. "I don't understand what you're talking about."

"I know. Please, don't be afraid; it's just that there's too much to explain. All you need to know, really... is that what I have to do is very difficult for me. It's not something I take lightly. But if I do not do it, millions will suffer and die... You're a hero. Would you not do a lot to protect innocent people?"

"I..." She swallowed, steadied herself. The man was not mad, she realized now... he was testing her for some reason. And she had no doubt what her answer to his question was. "I would do anything," she said firmly.

He smiled, looking sad in a way, and somewhat regretful, but mostly relieved. "Yes. You understand the truth that sacrifices must be made. Sometimes there is no other way. To preserve the peace and happiness of millions, your child must die."

And Natasha was suddenly aware of a dagger moving towards her unprotected womb.


	14. Chapter 14: Licking Wounds

- Chapter 14: Licking Wounds -

At the Lady Sarah's orders, the wagon was brought to a halt by a small cavern lodged in the cliffs.

"The sun's beginning to set, so we shall take a rest for now and regroup. Halron, scout out the nearby area and make sure that those raiders aren't watching where we lay down to sleep. Jaha, Theo, investigate the cave for any unfriendly residents. The rest of you, gather leaves and twigs to conceal the wagon. It appears that winds often blow such debris through these cliffs and deposit it in corners, so such concealment shouldn't look terribly out of place."

While her little escort set to work, Lady Sarah took a look around, watching for concealed enemies. She had led the party considerably off the straight course to the capital, which went through Emild's thick forests. If they entered there unprepared, they would be very vulnerable to the raiders. She had a responsibility to Cypress to complete this mission, and she would take no chances on that.

The detour also gave her more time to think over the situation. The band who had attacked them appeared to be common raiders, but they might have been anonymously employed to kill her, most likely by a lord of Emild or by the king himself. After all, only in the hardest of times would a single wagon have tempted looters. And if Emild was behind this, there was no telling what dangers they would have yet to face.

In just a few minutes, the party had concealed the wagon and Jaha and Theo had emerged from the cave, declaring that it was fairly shallow and entirely safe. Theo still looked rather weak from the wounds he had taken in battle, but he could not be excused from duties on those grounds, lest the others take it as encouragement to perform at less than their very best.

"If Halron declares this area secure, then we can risk a small fire," she said to them. "The cliff walls will prevent the light from being seen by all but those who are very close by, and the smoke should be too dilute to be seen by the time it ascends past the edge of the cliffs. You may begin gathering wood."

By the time they had put together a decent pile, Halron had returned from his mission and reported that all was well. It was getting fairly dark, so she ordered Varmo to light the fire with a Blaze spell before calling the lot of them together.

"Thank you all for your work. You are all probably worrying about our current situation, but I assure you, so long as you follow my instructions, we will all come through safe and sound. The ideal at this point would be for us to deal with the raiders who attacked us first, ending that threat. However, we cannot waste valuable time looking for them, so most likely we will continue to Emild's capital by a more roundabout route. We should elude the raiders this way, but if not, I have a few precautions in mind."

She gave them a meaningful look. "And remember, you need not be afraid. You were tested today, most of you for the first time, and with the notable exception of Lana, all of you performed very well under the pressure. You may have stumbled or balked a few times, but you will inevitably improve with experience. I have no doubts that you will be able to handle any of the trials ahead." Leaving a concluding pause, Sarah then finished, "Now, you may set about preparing yourselves dinner."

----------------------

It didn't surprise Theo that Halron excused himself from the campfire as soon as he was given his food. Halron wasn't the sociable sort, after all, and probably considered all those present save Varmo to be bad company. Theo wasn't exactly comfortable around most of them himself, and Halron provided him a good opening to also excuse himself to eat alone.

What surprised him was overhearing Lana also excuse herself as he was walking away. She made some complaint about the heat and smoke, but Theo had a feeling there was more to it than that. He shrugged it off and found a relatively comfortable nook in the rocks to sit and eat. Even if he was right - and he admitted that he wasn't very good at reading even people he knew well, much less casual acquaintances like Lana - it wasn't much of his business.

_Wish Jane were here. She could make much better sense of these people than I can, and I'd love to hear what she'd make of Varmo's half-heroism on the battlefield. Besides, she'd be much better company than any of them. Even though she'd scold me for how reckless I was in battle... But what else could I have done? I had to protect Lady Sarah; it's my..._

"Mind if I join you?"

It was Lana. Theo struggled for a moment to come up with an answer, but it wasn't really a question. She sat down next to him and sighed.

"Boy, she really knows how to put things, doesn't she? 'With the notable exception of Lana'... Sweet Cypress, could you be any nastier?"

She sounded like she had been holding back the urge to cry. Theo wondered for a moment why she was dumping this on him, but then he realized she had no better choice. None of the party were friends of hers, and he was the only one who offered even the slightest possibility of a sympathetic ear.

Scratching at his head for a moment, Theo answered, "Well, I don't think she really meant to offend you... just offering criticism in a kind of insensitive way."

"She totally humiliated me," Lana returned, almost sobbing. "Like I didn't already know I completely screwed up, she just had to point to me as the odd man out in front of everyone."

"Hey... look," Theo said, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. He had promised himself not to talk with Lana if he could help it, but he couldn't turn away someone who needed a figurative hand on the shoulder. "You didn't 'completely screw up', you just panicked a little. It happens."

"Just panicked a little," she repeated, wiping at her face. Theo realized she was wiping away tears; he hadn't noticed them fall in the poor light. Still, she was beginning to sound calmer. "I'm not supposed to panic. I asked General Mayfair why she picked me for this mission instead of some other healer, and you know what she said? She said it was because she could trust me not to panic if things went wrong. Well, things went just a little bit wrong, and I completely panicked."

He swallowed. "So... what happened, then?"

"I don't know... I think it was getting shot. I was ready to see other people hurt, but I never thought I might get killed myself. ...Sounds pretty self-centered, doesn't it?"

"Nope. It feels a lot different getting hurt than seeing someone hurt, that's all." He paused. "Don't worry about it; you did fine. I wouldn't be here now if you didn't."

"Sure you would have. Lady Sarah can -"

"Well, you know what I mean." He offered a smile. It was unlike Lana to admit to such vulnerability, or to be friendly at all with the less than socially prestigious, and he hoped to encourage it.

She smiled back. "Well... I'm just glad you're okay." She quickly looked away and turned to her dinner, scooping the warm meal into her mouth with her spoon.

Theo couldn't help but study her for a few moments. Lana's features were mostly hidden in the dim light, but the glow of the fire playing across her body cast her beauty in a twilight aura.

He shook his head and forced his attention to his own meal. It was less extravagant fare than he'd gotten used to at Castle Cypress, and though he really didn't mind the change of pace, he was surprised Lana hadn't griped about it yet. _Shows that she's adaptable, I guess. She can't have the fancy castle meals, so she eats whatever's put in front of her._

"You scared?" Lana asked.

"Huh? Oh. No, not really. I mean, it's a scary situation, but I trust Lady Sarah. And Dawn."

"You know, you were almost killed already."

He shrugged. "But I wasn't, and we're all going to do better next time."

"I wish I felt half as brave as you," Lana sighed.

Theo glanced over at her, and their eyes met. It felt strangely like there was already a bond between them, formed over the blood of a battlefield.

----------------------

Though a glass of wine would have truly hit the spot after the harrowing battle and subsequent manual labor, Varmo was willing to be satisfied with the meal going down his throat to comfortably warm his insides. The company, too, was a bit of a relief. He was able to carry on a lively conversation with the Lady Sarah's two assistants; they, at least, had not witnessed his ignominious debut in combat, and could offer valuable information on the world of diplomacy. Jaha's friendliness towards him didn't seem to have waned, but the dwarf lacked the wit to appreciate his more intellectual comments, and in any case he was more interested in chatting with Dawn for the moment. And so, for the moment, the Lady Sarah's assistants were his preferred conversationalists.

Halron, of course, had to be agitated by his earlier insinuations of suspicion, and it was a relief that he had not seen fit to join them in their meal. Though of course that still left the question of what to do about his suspicions. He could not believe that his friend would flat-out betray them to their enemies, but to leave Cypress and make a new life for himself in Emild, even if it meant abandoning his comrades... that, he could not put out of Halron's capacity. Particularly not with how coldly the beastman had been treating him of late.

But he had the present company to enjoy, and the lightness of the mood improved still further when Lady Sarah, after giving them instructions on sentry duties for the night(three watches, with Jaha and Lana first, himself and Halron second, and Dawn and Theo last), stood up and announced she was turning in early. Even with one of her assistants following her example to an early bed, there was a noticeable dissolving of tension. None of them, Varmo suspected, had felt very comfortable with Lady Sarah's condemnation of Lana, particularly after her somewhat harsh discipline earlier. Though perhaps Dawn, at least, had no visceral objection to the Lady Sarah's actions. After all, on an rational level, Varmo completely agreed with what she'd done.

"Varmo?" Dawn ventured. He looked at her in acknowledgment. "I'm sorry... for teasing you earlier. You acquitted yourself very well."

_What is she playing at? It's not at all like her to apologize for anything. Surely she doesn't fear reprisals from me._ He furrowed his brow in puzzlement, and involuntarily turned his glance to Jaha.

"Hey, I didn't put her up to this," the dwarf said, still wiping at his frizzy hair. They had finished using his pot for the cooking, but it was still too hot from the flames to replace on his head.

"Don't look like that, Varmo," Dawn protested, with a touch of irritation. "I have a big mouth every now and then, and I don't believe in leaving bad blood between comrades. I've heard things about you that I don't like, but you did far better than I gave you credit for, and I apologize for that."

_She sounds actually sincere. A bit forced, perhaps, but sincere. Is she daft, then? How can she possibly call being shot in the arm deserving of credit?_

But it would not be politic to ask her that, and if there was one thing Varmo had no trouble staying true to, it was being politic. She was offering a genuine apology, and that gave him a fresh opportunity to make her a supporter. He nodded his head at her with a polite smile. "Apology accepted. And forgive me for being suspicious."

"Thanks." She shifted her legs, scooting her lower body just slightly closer to the fire. "It's me who really messed up. I've never tried leading people into battle before, and... well, I don't know exactly what I did wrong, but obviously you and Theo got hurt. It's just luck that you weren't killed. Natasha would have done a much better job."

"Please, no, Dawn," Jaha moaned, clapping his hands over his ears. "Not a long speech full of self-pity, please..."

Dawn took her bowl and smacked it against the side of Jaha's head. "Knock it off. It's not self-pity; I was just leading up to..." She paused, turned to Varmo. "...asking if you had any advice."

"Advice?" Varmo echoed, out of force of habit. Halron would have reprimanded him if he were there.

"On leading people," Dawn clarified. "You must have learned something while you were in charge of Castle Cypress."

Varmo hesitated. _It's bad practice to tip one's hand, and... Gods, I honestly didn't learn much at all from being in charge. The only things I learned came from the mistakes that cost me the position._

"There's not much in common between our two types of leadership," he said at last. "I can't help you."

He realized, belatedly, that he'd essentially admitted he had no claim to the ability to lead them himself. _It's just as well, though. What do I know about combat that anyone else in this bunch doesn't know? That's not what I'm here for._

Dawn acknowledged his answer with a thankful nod and, odd enough for her stony personality, a sigh. She really did seem bothered about something, Varmo noted. While it might be interesting to know what it was, however, he doubted he could break through her cool exterior that easily.

That was part of his trouble; he was great with mobs, but not so good with people. It pained him to admit such shortcomings, but if he didn't admit them he would never become good enough to lead again. It hadn't been easy the first time, after all, and it would have to be harder this time.

He scooped up the last mouthful of his meal and said, "It's been nice talking to you all. If you'll excuse me, I have my studies to tend to."

"Hey, don't be so formal, bud," Jaha said, reaching over to slap him on the shoulder. "We're battle comrades now, remember?"

Indeed he did - it was his wounded arm that Jaha had just slapped, and it was still sore. Covering up his wince with a smile, Varmo said, "Thank you, my friend. It's just a habit of mine to talk that way."

He gathered up his staff, a blanket, a candle, and one of his books from the wagon, and went into the cave. Lady Sarah and her assistant were already sleeping, so he settled himself down with the blanket over his legs and lit the candle so that he could read. The light immediately flashed off a pair of yellow eyes.

"Burning some midnight wax?"

Varmo involuntarily recoiled, scooting back along the cave floor, even as he recognized Halron. "Trying to frighten people?" he returned, but even he had to admit that his voice came out more high-pitched than usual.

Halron actually chuckled. Just slightly, but with genuine good humor, something Varmo rarely heard from him. "Wasn't thinking that I'd have that effect on anyone. I just wanted to talk to you in private."

"I don't see much need for that. I'm trying to study."

"I think you do see the need, actually." Halron leaned forward, making him feel just a bit edgy, though he wasn't truly afraid that Halron would hurt him. "You suggested that I lied about my reasons for not coming straight to your aid. But you didn't share your suspicions with Lady Sarah." He folded his hands together. "There are two possible reasons for your doing that that I can think of. One: you're my friend, and you want to hear my side of the story. Two: you believe you can blackmail me. Either way, you would want to talk to me about this."

Varmo's fur bristled. "Are you trying to simply insult me? To even suggest that I'd stoop to something as low and pathetic as blackmail is -"

"Then your not informing Lady Sarah was a gesture of friendship?"

Was it? Another shortcoming to own up to himself; he wasn't entirely sure why he'd done as he had.

He settled himself back. "As if such a thing would matter to you."

"No whining, Varmo," Halron growled. "You are unbearable when you whine."

"So that's what I am to you... something to be endured."

"I've apologized at least three times for causing your imprisonment."

"And your indifference to me ever since... Do you think an apology will make that right?"

"Would you like to hear why I was late in coming to your aid, or not?"

Varmo hesitated. "...Yes, actually."

Halron slumped a half inch or so. "I will admit that it boils down to incompetence on my part, to some extent. I was distracted by someone not of the raiders."

"Distracted..." That was hard to believe of a warrior like Halron.

"Yes. Binuto was there."

That caught his attention. "Doing what?"

"He wouldn't tell me."

"Why didn't you tell Lady Sarah? He's at least guilty of deserting Castle Cypress."

"Do you truly think she would believe me? With my record, and with my feud with Binuto?"

"True." _Come to think of it, I'm not sure that I should believe it myself. It does seem unnecessarily far-fetched for a lie, but that could have been why he chose it._ "Do you think he's a threat?"

Halron shook his head. "I don't know. He has no reason to want to do any of us harm, except for me, and perhaps you. But it wouldn't surprise me if he were willing to slaughter the whole party just to get at me."

Taking note of his clenched fists, Varmo remarked, "You're hoping that he _does_ mean us harm, aren't you..."

"I don't... that would make me very happy, yes," Halron admitted, compulsively opening and closing his fist, as though picturing himself breaking the neck of a general of Iom. The opportunity inherent to that desire - to the desire of any person - immediately registered in Varmo's head. "But I don't want to kill him," Halron added quickly. "Merely teach him a lesson. And then turn him over to Lady Sarah's mercies."

"And I would be pleased to help you do that." He held out a hand to his friend. "Lady Sarah assigned us a watch together tonight, so perhaps we can work out a trap for our cold-blooded... um... adversary. Partners again?"

Halron eyed the hand warily. "What do you want in return?"

"Nothing but your goodwill. Partners?"

He stared at the hand a moment longer, then reached out and took it. "You're very likely the only friend I'll ever have. I suppose it is time I started treating your friendship as valuable." They shook. "Partners."

----------------------

Stretching his weary limbs, Jaha straightened himself up in an effort to restore some alertness. He wished he'd been given a later watch; he really wanted to flop down for some good sleep. The battle had taken a lot out of him.

_Not a bad adventure so far, though. Dawn's always great to work with, and it looks like we'll be getting plenty of action to split between us. Those raiders aren't as brave as Iom soldiers - too much underhanded stuff - but they're still pretty fun to fight._

_The rest of the guys are fun to have around, too. Varmo's a pretty smart guy, but he's not a jerk or a know-it-all about it. He's pretty good in a fight too; not half as awesome as Dawn, but good. Halron's a quiet guy, but it suits him. Kind of reminds me of Deanna in that way. And Theo's great for yuks._

_Lana's seems like kind of a brat, but you can't win 'em all. Good bunch, good adventure, especially once we get to the court of Emild. Wonder if we'll get to meet the real king this time._

He toyed with the end of his axe. _Of course, it's not the same without Natasha. Never will be, I guess. Don't know what it was about her, but whenever she lead us, the battles seemed... to matter more, somehow. We really felt like we were fighting for something when we followed her. And I bet she'd never stick me on first watch when I needed some good shut eye._

Deciding to make the best of it, he sauntered over towards Lana. She didn't seem to notice him, only clasping her staff and staring out into the cool night. He put the head of his axe against a nearby rock and leaned against the handle.

"So..." he grinned suggestively, purposely scuffing his boots along the ground. "...you and Theo, huh?"

Lana glanced at him. He couldn't read her expression, at least not in the dim light. She shortly looked away again. "We were just talking."

"That's how it starts, uh huh."

"Think what you like," she said, with impeccable coolness. She sounded almost amused, irritatingly enough. "I can already tell that Theo knows how to be a friend better than you and your lot."

"So, the relationship's building fast, huh?"

"You'd really like to know, wouldn't you? Too bad you're not getting any answers from me..."

Jaha gave up, and walked off. _Wish Luke were here; he knows how to make anyone's blood boil._ He took in a sigh as he settled himself into a decent position to finish his dreary watch.

A harsh blow rang against his pot, sending an intense tremor through his skull. He fell forward, slapping hard against the ground, and watched his helmet roll away. The warrior's instinct in him commanded him to move, and move quickly, but his head was ringing with such massive pain that he couldn't manage to send any messages to his limp arms and legs.

His senses still functioned, and he could see a doubled image of someone slapping a hand over Lana's mouth, other hands restraining her struggling limbs, but his brain couldn't tell him what it all meant. The image vanished as another heavy blow landed upon his unprotected head.


	15. Chapter 15: Matters of Children

- Chapter 15: Matters of Children -

The smell hit Deanna as he and Lym stepped into the tavern, but not half as much as the noise. It was the loud roar of a crowd talking loudly, arguing, banging tables. The sound of too many people, being too unruly. Deanna hated it. It swallowed up each beautiful individual man and woman and merged them into a dangerous and unpredictable beast.

But surprisingly, it did not arouse even a flicker of fear in him. He knew that if any one of them, or even three or four of them, were to turn their drunken rowdiness against him, he would deal with it. His business here was, ultimately, for the good of his wife and daughter, and anyone who interfered in that would regret it. Hopefully no one would; he fervently wished to finish this without hurting anyone.

Wallor was seated at a table in a dark side of the room. Deanna and Lym joined him there. "Have you overheard anything?"

Wallor didn't answer, but silently gestured to a point behind Deanna. He turned around and saw the barmaid. It didn't register why Wallor had pointed her out until Lym said, "Mead, if you will."

Taking the cue, Deanna ordered, "Cider, please."

She eyed him over. "You look like the sort of man who could handle something a lot stronger than _that_."

He said nothing, hoping she would take the hint and go away. When she didn't, his face burned slightly at the awkwardness, and he simply repeated, "Cider." She shrugged and took off.

"You're likely to attract some attention, with those handsome features and mysterious behavior," Wallor remarked with a grin.

"Handsome? Me?"

"It seems to run in the family." He paused a moment, then pointed. "See? Someone's already taken a fancy to you."

He looked and saw a young woman seated at a nearby table, watching him shyly. Natasha must have been right about his haircut, he concluded; no one had ever called him handsome before. He turned back to Wallor. "Is that a problem? Surely I can't attract enough attention to create trouble for us."

"It wouldn't hurt you to order a normal drink."

Deanna shook his head. "I never drink anything intoxicating. Did you overhear anything?"

"Nothing yet. The evening is young. What did you two find about town?"

After taking one last look around to make sure no one else was listening, he said, "It seems like this is the village where our first target lived, just as we thought. The bad news is no one seems to have seen him recently."

"We go to his house tomorrow morning, then."

"Yes. He probably won't be there, but it's the best place to look for clues."

Lym remained silent, just as she had through their investigations in town. All of them had agreed that with her temper, it would be safest if she simply stood by Deanna's side while he questioned people. Still, it was odd, doing all the talking when there was someone else around.

There was a soft clunk on wood as the barmaid slid their glasses to them. "You folks eating?"

Wallor gave her a gesture that she seemed to take as an affirmative. Deanna took a drink, watching him. The healer was a bit... domineering, but he knew his business. Between the three of them, Deanna was confident that they would not lose the trail of his future king.

His heart still ached with Natasha's absence, however. He missed little things: the way her hair smelled like flowers, her smile that made it feel like everything was right, the loving carefulness with which she carried their daughter. More than that, he missed the reassurance of her presence; whenever she was with him, he felt sure that everything he did was meaningful, that he would succeed in his struggle to help people. Without her, he felt the unpleasant touch of uncertainty. He could handle it, easily, but it was not a welcome feeling. He longed to feel his wife's kiss, to bury himself in the comforting warmth of her loins, to hear her speak of her love and happiness. In a way, it was worse than when he'd left her at Castle Cypress. Then, he hadn't truly known she loved him; now, he knew what he was missing.

He wondered if she was aching for him in the same way. The thought of her in such pain was, in its way, worse than feeling it himself. He wasn't too worried, however, as Natasha wasn't really alone in the way that he was. She had Carla with her.

----------------------

There wasn't enough time. Between noticing the dagger and it reaching her womb was less than a full second. Even if Natasha could have gotten out the word "Blaze" or "Freeze" quickly enough - and that was doubtful - it wouldn't have halted the momentum of the dagger's thrust. Egress would have bought her a few seconds at best, since she hadn't been outside her room recently. And her body's reactions, slowed by the fullness of her pregnancy, weren't enough to elude the lethal strike.

No time, Natasha could have wept. There just wasn't any chance for her to do anything... for her baby. For Deanna's baby. She'd have gone through the most terrible pits of Iom's heart to protect Carla... but she did not even have the chance.

Blessedly, she didn't need it. Dust's hand, clamped firmly on Brehen's wrist, was all the protection Carla needed.

Natasha scrambled back into a sitting position, clutching the blanket about her, while Dust tightened his grip until the dagger fell out of Brehen's hands. "Back away from her," Dust ordered in a voice as sharp as a blade's edge, "...or you die now."

Brehen stumbled back a step. "Where did you come fr-"

"I'll ask the questions. Who sent you?"

Relief flooded through Natasha; Carla was safe. Their beloved daughter was safe. The one who had threatened her, however, was still present, and that gave rise to an entirely different emotion. She gripped her blanket so tightly that her fingernails pressed through the fabric and dug into her palms, staring at the man who had tried to take one of her greatest joys away from her.

"You tried to kill my baby!" she raged at him. Only her natural good sense and desire to keep Carla safe prevented her from leaping off the bed to attack Brehen.

"It was for the greater good," he protested. "One of your children is destined to become one of the most fearsome warlords in Iom history. I had to be -"

"Enough lies," Dust interrupted, drawing his own small blade and holding it to Brehen's throat. "I'll ask again: Who sent you?"

"No one," he answered. "My dream told me what her child would become."

At that, he jerked his arm free of Dusk's grasp and lunged back out of the reach of his dagger. But Dust, obviously prepared for this maneuver, stretched out his leg to trip Brehen onto his back. Before the prophet could make another move, Dust seized him and forced him up onto his knees, pressing the point of his dagger into the back of his neck.

"You're well-trained," Dust observed.

"Not so well as you, it would seem."

"You caught my point. Good. Lady Natasha, would you be so kind as to bind his arms for me?"

The only available material that would serve that purpose was her bedsheets. She stepped out of bed, still careful not to unnecessarily jar Carla, and gathered them up. Dust brought his captive up to a half-stand so that she could reach his wrists without bending over. Taking a breath to control the seething rage she felt for the man before her, she took her time, making sure his wrists were tight against each other and working to make a knot that she could confidently say was solid.

"You said you would do anything to protect innocent people," Brehen said, glaring at her almost in accusation.

Natasha's fist clenched, and she slammed a blow into his jaw. "You tried to kill my baby!" she screamed.

His face had been knocked in the opposite direction, but when he turned back to her she could see blood running out of his mouth. Swallowing back the blood flow, he managed to begin repeating, "You said..."

"Killing a baby isn't the way to protect innocent people," she retorted, forcing herself to swallow back her rage.

"What other choice -"

"Be thankful," Dust interrupted. "...that lady Natasha has such impressive self-control. As it is, continuing to argue with her is nothing more than the surest way for you to be burned alive. Even if it were not based on lies, your reasoning for your assault comes up short." He pressed the dagger up into Brehen's belly. "I want the truth now. There are methods of using this dagger that will make killing you take hours. Tell me who sent you, or I will take you to a room where I can demonstrate."

"It was a dream," Brehen repeated. "My dreams often show me the future."

"Very well. I'm sure Lord Jared has a good room in the lower levels."

"Dust, wait," Natasha said, grasping his shoulder. "What if he's telling the truth?"

"I don't believe in prophecy, my lady. Besides, if he is telling the truth, and no one sent him, then killing him will put an end to this problem."

"But what about the future? If that's what one of my children is going to grow up to be... he could tell us things that might help us prevent that."

Brehen sighed. "The only way to prevent it is to kill any children you have with your husband."

"Good," Dust said. "Then you agree that you can be of no help to us alive."

"Stop it!" Natasha gripped his shoulder more tightly. "I don't care what he says; he has to know something! You don't learn something like a specific person turning into a warlord from just a single moment in the future! He must have spent at least an hour in that vision. That means he has to know some details, something that could give us a clue on how to stop this!"

Dust gave her a look. "Do you truly think that a child raised by you and Master Deanna could possibly turn into something evil? Even if you do, why would you even consider believing his word on the matter?"

"Because we can test him... ask him to tell one of his other visions."

She glanced at Brehen as she said this. A hopeful look appeared on his face. "If I help you, you'll let me go?"

"No," she snapped. "If you're telling the truth, you'll want to help us. You're not getting away with what you tried to do to Carla."

"I'll do it," he said. "But... I don't think I've seen any visions yet that would prove I'm telling the truth. I need time to dream of one. I'll be willing to wait in a cell until then."

Dust beckoned her with a look. Natasha offered him her ear, and he whispered, "He's playing for time, so that he can come up with a convincing lie."

"You can't be sure of that," she returned. "Give me a minute so that I can go find Jengh or Frecor and they can take him to his cell."

"Wearing _that_?"

She blushed, suddenly recalling that she was still in her nightgown. "Avert your eyes, please," she murmured, and went to pull one of her dresses out.

----------------------

After she brought Lieutenant Frecor to the room, he ordered two of his guards to escort Brehen to the capital's prison. The next order of business was questioning the serving girl. She of course directed them to a higher-ranking servant, who in turn told them that Brehen had been directly referred by Lord Jared.

"I'll deal with him, straight away," Frecor nodded.

"Wait a moment," Natasha said, remembering her letter. She grabbed it from the desk, folded it, and handed it to Frecor. "Could you please make sure this is delivered to General Mayfair at Castle Cypress, too? If the messenger tells the guards that it's from Sergeant Natasha, they should let him through."

The lieutenant smiled as he took the letter. "I'll send it on its way, full speed. Anything else?"

"Yes. Thank you for taking care of all this. When Deanna gets back, I'll let him know that we were right to have faith in you." Frecor blushed.

They all went on their way, leaving only her and Dust behind.

"My lady, I trust that from now on you will -"

In retrospect, he must have been distracted, still concerned about the attempt on Carla's life. There was no other explanation for why he didn't jump out of reach when she turned and embraced him, even as suddenly as she did it. She buried her face in the black fabric covering his shoulder.

"You saved my baby's life," she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion.

"I did not do it for you," Dust snapped, shoving her off of him. "And I have told you before not to touch me! My reflexes are sharp enough that I could kill you before my mind registers who you are."

Natasha shook her head, still smiling with gratitude, though she couldn't deny to herself that his physical rebuff had stung. "It doesn't matter why you did it. If you hadn't done it, I'd have lost one of the two people most precious to me. I will always love you for that."

"You waste your emotions, lady Natasha. I am only your husband's tool."

"You're a human being," she returned. "You chose to do what you did."

"Perhaps. But I have no desire for your gratitude."

She sighed, but only with gentle exasperation; her smile did not waver. "Would you please avert your eyes again?" Time had passed during their investigations of the breach of her safety, and the hour felt right for sleep. She quickly changed back into her nightgown and slipped into bed.

"If you are settled, I shall be on my way," Dust opened the window.

"No! Please wait..." She half-expected him to disobey, but he looked at her, unmoving. "I'm afraid. What if someone else comes to kill Carla?"

"Don't let anyone in who you don't know."

"What if they force their way in?"

"There are guards standing watch in the halls, my lady. And I'll be around."

"You need to sleep sometime..."

"I'll wake you if I need to."

"Okay, but..." She looked around. It suddenly all seemed so frail. She couldn't help but fear that enemies could come forth from the very air around her to take away her baby. _For all I know, they can. Warderer was one of the world's most powerful mages... it could be that some of the people who still serve his line know strong magic, too. And I can't use my more powerful magic to stop them; that strong a flow of magic from my body might hurt Carla. There's so many people out there who are against us. I can't protect her. I need..._

"Deanna," she murmured, looking to Dust with a certain desperation, praying that somewhere beneath that black fabric and self-enforced emotional distance, he could understand her. "I need Deanna."

"Your husband should be back in just a week or two."

She shook her head. "I need him now. I know I'm being foolish, but I just can't let anyone hurt Carla now, I can't -" A sob caught in her throat. She sniffed it down, and finished, "I can't stand to lose her now. And Deanna can protect us."

"Lady Natasha -"

"I'm not a noblewoman! Please, just call me Natasha!"

"...it is understandable that you're nervous, after what happened." He reached out and, much to Natasha's astonishment, laid a hand on her shoulder. "But I promise you, there is nothing I desire more in this world than that your little child should live to adulthood. I will not allow her to come to harm."

She stared up at him. It was not so much his words that were astonishing, but the unhidden trace of emotion in his eyes. She grasped his wrist. "Would you like to feel her?"

"It is not my place to ask for something of -"

With her free hand she pushed the bed covers down to her waist and lifted her nightgown to expose part of her belly. Amusingly, Dust averted his eyes through this procedure, as though simply seeing where her baby lay was indecent. _Then again, if he weren't such a close friend, I'd think it was indecent too._ She pressed his hand to her womb. He resisted, but not strongly enough to break free.

"She's there," she whispered. "If you hadn't spent hours sitting out there, watching over her, she'd be gone."

For a moment, no one but Carla moved. Then Dust jerked his hand away. "This is wrong," he said firmly, moving back to the window.

Natasha gave him a patient look as she covered herself back up. "The only wrong I see here is that the man who saved first my husband's life and now my daughter's is saying that he doesn't deserve to be our friend. Maybe you've lost people close to you, but Deanna lost everyone, and he still found something new. You can -"

"My situation is nothing like Deanna's," he interrupted. "We were raised in completely different circumstances. Your compassion does you credit, my lady, but you are directing it towards entirely the wrong person." He left a significant pause as he stepped onto the window sill. "It was not without reason that I told you to call me 'Dust'."

He closed the window behind him.

Left alone, Natasha slowly closed her eyes. Attempting to calm herself so she could sleep, she set her breathing to a steady rate and focused her thoughts on Deanna. His face before her, his arms comfortingly around her. "My love..." she murmured.

----------------------

"My love..."

The wind stole away Deanna's murmur as he walked through the town, woke him from his reflection. Thoughts of Natasha had filled his sleep the previous night, and even now he struggled to push them away. They made for pleasant dreams and restful slumber, but now that he was confronting his task he needed to focus.

He had kept their target's name and the location of his supposed residence a secret from Wallor. That would prevent Wallor from ensuring their target's death if he was a traitor, and if treachery did occur, the list of suspects would be narrowed down to Lym.

_Or so I hope. My experience is all with contemplating treachery, not worrying about traitors myself. What if Wallor did overhear something yesterday, and didn't speak up? ...No, that's over-thinking it. He doesn't know who we're looking for, so how could anything he heard be useful unless he shared it with us? The only thing he can know is that Aaron's heir is in this town, and that won't be useful to our enemies._

The three of them came to a stop at the house. Deanna stepped forward to knock at the door. Though his heart was pounding with tension, he kept an outward calm. _Have to be ready. If Wallor is a traitor, he might lunge at our new king as soon as he sees him. And what in Iom's name is that smell?_

There was no answer at the door. He knocked again. And again.

Finally, giving a nod to Wallor and Lym to be alert, he pushed the door open.

"By Iom," Lym hissed. Deanna swallowed at the sight of the decaying body propped up against the leg of a table.

After a moment of silence, Wallor remarked in a bleak tone, "Looks like someone's ahead of us."

Trembling, Deanna stepped closer and knelt down to take a look at the body, keeping a good three feet away. "Maybe not," he said. "He's been here a while... maybe Warderer had him killed."

"No. Warderer wouldn't have left the body here. It could have incited outrage against him."

Deanna nodded, feeling sick, less at the corpse before him than at the thought of what danger the other prospective heirs could be in. There was hope in the fact that the farther down on the list a person was, the less likely anyone would know of his connection to King Aaron. On the other hand, if someone on the other side somehow knew who was on the list, he was probably following a lost cause.

"Still... we don't know for sure that this is the heir. We only know the heir's name, gender, and age," he pointed out. "We'll have to... ask the people in town... to identify him."

----------------------

After confirming the corpse's identity, and questioning the locals some to see if they could pick up a clue as to who had committed the killing, the three returned to the inn. Deanna had had enough for the day, and there was little to go on yet for where they might find the second person on the list. He told Lym and Wallor that they would resume their search the following morning, and shut himself in his room.

He sighed, wishing Natasha were with him. He didn't think she'd have a better idea of what to do, but at the least she would give him hope.

_I can't forget... she must be having a rough time, too. It must be hard to have to just wait, and wonder._

That, he realized, was a pain he could ease, and promptly set to the task. There was no desk in his room, but he had brought paper in his traveling pack, and upon request was able to obtain a pen from the innkeeper. There was a spot on the floor smooth enough for writing, and he settled himself there to write Natasha a letter.

From the moment he laid the pen to paper, Deanna began to feel better. The simple act of writing her name brought a relieving lightness to his heart, yet it was paltry compared to the satisfaction of putting forth all the feelings he'd wanted to express to her for the past week. He gave some mention of the progress of their mission, but phrased it to make things sound hopeful, and as he wrote on he began to feel that matters actually _were_ hopeful. And mainly he focused on how much he missed her and Carla, how much he looked forward to again holding them in his arms. Expressing his yearnings was cathartic, liberating. He was stirred with joy at how happy he instinctively knew Natasha would be to read his words of love to her, and the weight of the anxiety he must be causing her was lightened from his shoulders.

A knock at the door interrupted him. He paused, set the pen into the inkwell, and got up to open it. He hoped it was Lym or Wallor, come to report some fresh information.

But it was a woman. A woman with elven cheekbones and ears, but dark, purplish skin... As she stared at him with a look that Deanna could not read, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He glanced to his sword. It rested against the dresser, just out of arm's reach.

"Are you Deanna?" the woman asked, uncertain.

Deanna side-stepped to the right so that he could snatch up his sword. "What is your interest?"

The woman looked at the sword, clasped in his hands but not drawn, as though bewildered by it. "This... this man named Deanna... and a woman named Natasha... they help people. I heard that Deanna was nearby, and I..." She stopped. "Are you Deanna or not?"

The woman seemed hesitant, peaceful, harmless. But something about her still made him feel uneasy, and her manner could easily have been feigned to erase his suspicion. Still, to keep her guessing as to his identity would be no more than cheap cowardice, and cowardice simply didn't suit him any more.

"Yes, I am."

"Thank Iom!" Her hands clasped together, and she stepped closer to him, gazing up into his eyes imploringly. "Please, you have to help me. They've taken my child."

"I..." The request startled him. "I... I'm sort of... busy at the moment... many lives are at stake..."

"Oh, I know, I know, you and your wife are always helping Iom. But please, if you could even just write a letter so that someone else could search, it might help. Please, just hear me..."

He took a step back, fidgeting a bit. He hated refusing a plea for help, but it didn't seem likely that he could do anything for her. "I... I would like to help you. Why don't you start by telling me who you are?"

The woman hesitated a brief instant, then nodded. "Yes. You ought to know that first. It will mean a lot to you, one way or the other." She lowered her head. "My name is Yurligi. I was King Warderer's concubine."


	16. Chapter 16: Uncivilized Negotiations

- Chapter 16:Uncivilized Negotiations -

When the Lady Sarah awoke, she groaned at the aching in limbs that had spent the night in unnatural positions. Her wrists, she determined upon attempting to stretch her limbs, were bound behind her back, tied together so tightly that it hurt. Her legs were roped up as well. Alarmed, she opened her eyes.

She was surrounded her own guards, also bound up, and by a number of raiders. They were in a cavern so vast that it impressed even her jaded eyes. Though the chamber was well-lit by a bonfire and torches borne by a half-dozen or so of the raiders, the ceiling stretched so high above them that no light reached it. A strange, paranoid part of her otherwise cool and collected mind wondered what might be lurking up there in the darkness.

"So you're the leader of this little pack of vermin," a gruff, less-than-respectful voice said. She ignored it for the moment, instead looking around to see which of her companions were also conscious, and whether any of them were hurt. Halron, Lana, and Varmo were all awake and seemed uninjured, though Lana was obviously terrified. Jaha, Theo, and her two assistants were all snoozing, the first bearing an impressive lump on his head. Dawn was set far from the rest of them, her legs manacled to a wall of the chamber, her wrists tied behind her back like most of the captives, and an ugly red bruise on her forehead.

The raiders must have struck during Lana and Jaha's watch, explaining the latter's injury. But there was no way of carrying a centaur to this cavern, so they would have had to force Dawn to come by threatening to kill her friends, then knock her senseless so that they could bind her legs without being kicked halfway to Cypress.

"Ignore me, will you?"

The back of a hand struck hard against her face. Ignoring the actual pain, she glared up at her assailant: a tall, limber brute with scars criss-crossing his throat, a pair of round, lustful eyes, and an unsightly salt-and-pepper mustache.

"You dare strike -"

"Who? A noblewoman? Haw! I've chewed up and spit out more blue blood than you have in your entire body, lady."

"- a directly appointed representative of the kingdom of Cypress," she finished.

"Ho! A Cypressian, eh?" he chuckled. "Well, little representative, the name's Dane, and you were trespassing on my band's home turf. So that makes you no more than a pack of thieving vermin before this court."

"You have no court. You are outlaws."

"I could say your people have no court just as easily, little vermin." Dane drew a blade and held it to her throat. "The sword makes the rules."

His use of the diminutive was a tad absurd; though the raider was not at all short, Lady Sarah could confidently say that she would stand at least half a foot taller than him. She kept that bit of amusement to herself, however. "How will you judge us, then?"

"Oh, you're guilty, no question. We just need to determine motive." He slightly drew the edge of the blade back along the underside of her jaw, making her wince as she felt the blood drip out. "So! You tell us what your business here is, and you and your vermin friends will die quickly and painlessly. Otherwise, we can make it long and painful for you. Oh, and your human and centaur females look like tempting bits of pleasure, but we can refrain from them if you talk."

Sarah glanced to her guards, but they were all too firmly gagged to offer vocal support.

"No," she said. "You will release me, my assistants, and my guards, or the forces of Cypress will come for you and bring you to justice."

Dane stared at her for a long moment. Then he let out a "Haw!" and stepped away from her. Lady Sarah watched him warily, not yet able to judge the meaning of his manner.

He folded his arms and directed his gaze towards a couple of his men. "Bring the other kyantol over here. Looks like we'll have to start showin' examples."

A voice sounded from... above? "Or maybe, Emild plunderer, you'll have to either release your captives or start digging your own graves!"

Lady Sarah barely had a chance to look up before someone collided with her from behind, knocking her forward with as much force as though she'd been shot from a crossbow. Her heart caught in her chest. She was shooting almost directly at Halron. Instinctively she raised her hands to shield her face - and it dawned on her that the bonds around her wrists had been cut. An instant later, whoever had smacked into her collided with Halron as well, and all three of them were soaring to high above the band of raiders.

"Damn it! Grawler, shoot them down!"

Lady Sarah now found herself flying towards the exit of the cavern. Adjusting at last to all the changes in momentum, she turned to identify her rescuer. "Claude!" she gasped.

"Who else, my lady?"

"What are you doing here? You're not even wearing armor!"

"I can carry a hefty load of armor or a hefty load of rescued Cypressians. Not both."

A sharp pain lodged in her right thigh, making her release a cry. She looked down for the source of the attack and saw a centaur galloping after them, a crossbow in his hands.

Halron reached up to remove the gag around his mouth and remarked, "Perhaps you should have gone with the armor, Sir Claude."

Claude cursed softly. "I can't lose him!"

It took Lady Sarah only a moment to realize just how precarious their position was. A single hit on Claude, whether lethal or not, would be enough to make him drop either her or Halron. And she had no notion of how deep the cavern was, whether they had any chance of reaching the light before Grawler scored a hit.

Another arrow whizzed just short of Claude's chest. "He's good," the birdman noted anxiously. "Don't know how much longer I can evade his shots."

"Try dropping me," Halron suggested.

"What?"

"Drop me on him, and I'll take him down."

"That's suicide," Sarah put in. "He'll just side-step you if you drop from this height, and if Claude goes lower, he'll have an easy shot at us." She paused, as a thought struck her. "Unless..."

"Lady Sarah?"

"Drop him, Claude," she said with sudden determination. "Try to aim him for the enemy's back. I'll make sure he lands there."

Claude was too good a soldier to question a commander's remarks in the midst of combat, so he promptly slowed his flight and released Halron, sending him plummeting directly towards Grawler.

The raider, a sleek creature with long blue hair and a rather elongate face, laughed at the sight of Halron falling and nimbly swerved to the left, out of his path.

Lady Sarah cried out "Blast!" - and it was not a curse. Fierce winds buffeted Halron, shoving him towards Grawler. He slapped against the centaur's flank and immediately clung on tight.

Grawler screamed out a curse and twisted his torso around to take aim at Halron. However, for a centaur to get a good look at something directly behind him is a rather tall order for his spine, and before he could get a good shot at his unwelcome passenger, Halron had crawled up his backside and knocked the crossbow from his hand.

"Bloody monster - get off!" The centaur gave up on pursuing the Lady Sarah, bucking and leaping about in an effort to dislodge Halron. The beastman held on with all the strength in his legs and threw an arm around Grawler's neck, squeezing tight on his windpipe.

Claude came in for a landing, setting Lady Sarah down carefully. She straightened out her robes, keeping an eye on the raider to be sure that Halron had him under control. After a minute, Grawler collapsed into a faint.

"Why didn't you kill him?" Lady Sarah asked, with mild curiosity.

Halron's brow furrowed. "I don't know. ...To prove a point, I suppose."

"No time for chatting," Claude interrupted. "We've got to get out of here before other pursuit catches up."

"What of my assistants, and the rest of my guards?"

"I nabbed the two of you by element of surprise; we won't be so lucky again. I hate to say it, but we'll have to move on to the capital without them."

Lady Sarah nodded. It was a shame to leave such promising youths to the mercy of bandits, but there was nothing they could do. And perhaps the threat of Cypressian retribution would prod the raiders to release their captives.

Halron, however, was not satisfied. "You're saying we should abandon them to their fate?"

"Believe me, there's nothing I hate more than letting comrades down," Claude said glumly. "But there's only three of us against a dozen of them, and they have hostages. We can't risk this entire mission, not to mention our own lives -"

"'We can't risk'?" Halron bellowed, startling the Lady Sarah. "I thought we were Cypressians! The people of courage and strength!"

"This has nothing to do with courage. It's a matter of the most sensible course of action to complete the mission, for the good of Cypress."

"And what is that worth, if Cypress is nothing more than a lot of cowards who would abandon their comrades at the first mishap? What is Cypress worth if she survives by leaving her own people to die?"

Claude held up a hand. "You are preaching to the minister, Sir Halron. I not only know the principles of Cypress as well or better than you, I've lived them. Believe me, if you and the Lady Sarah were not here, I'd take on that whole lot by myself to rescue your comrades." He sighed. "However, I have been charged with protecting the Lady Sarah, and as many of her guards as possible. That includes you. If I attempt to rescue your comrades, in all likelihood I would fail, and your lives would be lost. If I take you away from here now, I will at least have fulfilled the most important responsibility entrusted to me. My apologies, Sir Halron, but your lives are not mine to put at risk."

"But my life is mine to put at risk," Halron returned. "Even if it's just a small shot at rescuing them... my only two friends in the world are in there."

"Very well. I wouldn't have expected such self-sacrifice from one so young." He turned to Sarah. "That leaves it up to you, my lady. Are you willing to risk your life, and the success of your mission?"

The Lady Sarah pondered for a moment. "They were surprised," she murmured. "...that we were from Cypress. They did not expect us. Either they have nothing to do with the nobility and royalty of Emild, or they were somehow manipulated into confrontation with us."

Claude looked puzzled. "Does that make a difference?"

"Yes. It means we can try to negotiate."

----------------------

The matters of ruling could at times be quite boring, Queen Anri reflected as her messenger continued to recite reports on harvests, population shifts, and a number of other things relating to his home province. All things which were quite interesting and important in reality, but dry when delivered in cold facts. More often than not, she kept her interest by focusing on the former, but at this moment she could not. A large number of matters had required her attention over the past few days, and she was weary. She dutifully took in all the fine details as they were recounted, but she wished for a good bit of rest, perhaps some tea with Lowe.

"...and that is the last of the routine affairs, Your Majesty," the messenger finished. "My main business here is to deliver this. It's a letter from His Royal Highness King Nicholas II of Cypress."

That, at least, certainly caught Queen Anri's interest. "Let me see," she said, leaning forward in her throne and stretching her hand out to receive the letter. Ken, the only other person of the court in attendance, frowned disapprovingly - perhaps at her eagerness, perhaps at the simple existence of a letter from King Nicholas to her. It did not matter, and Anri ignored him.

The letter was, somewhat disappointingly, only one page long. King Nicholas was an eloquent and thorough man, and his missives tended to be three or four pages. His letters were always a delight to her. To begin with, the whole matter of making the first interactions with a nation roused her interest, something which could be said of scarcely any of the affairs of ruling. And King Nicholas was surprisingly sophisticated for his age, quite capable of following her through economic and even philosophical discussions, while displaying a very pleasing talent with the written word. Lately he had even been discussing magic with her, a topic which none of her friends could talk about for more than half a minute. There was Lowe, but his field of study was completely different from hers.

She intended to simply open the letter, take a look at the first few lines, and then take it to her private quarters. But the opening read:

"To her royal majesty, Queen Anri of Guardiana:

I am, as always, hopeful that this letter finds your fair self in the best of health and with the least of worries. For myself, I can claim the former, but not the latter. Indeed, certain matters have arisen such that I must utterly offend delicacy and etiquette by opening this letter with a request. I am most loathe to do this, as you have already bestowed favors on Cypress in the relatively recent past, but I write on in the hope that your magnanimous and forgiving nature will once more grant me the grace of your aid."

She could not stop reading at that, for even those few lines made her somewhat alarmed. Nick had only required Guardiana's assistance once before, and never had he asked for it. Considering how unstable Cypress had been in the year or so that she'd had relations with them, the logical conclusion was that this was a serious matter. She read on quickly to get the details.

When she was finished, Ken held out a hand. "May I, Your Majesty?"

Anri handed the letter to him. While he began reading, the messenger asked, "Will there be a reply, Your Majesty?"

"Yes," she said immediately. "Send word to King Nicholas that he will receive the aid he has requested. Furthermore, it will be sent with all expeditiousness, such that he may expect Guardiana troops to arrive within ten days of my sending this reply."

The messenger bowed. "Very good, Your Majesty."

When he had left, Anri reclined in her throne for a few moments, but in short order called to an attendant. "Fetch Ruce for me."

The attendant bowed and went. At the same moment, however, she heard Ken clear his throat. "I think, Your Majesty... that we had better call that messenger back."

She turned to her knight. "For what purpose?"

"It's not wise to do as King Nicholas has requested."

She fixed her eyes on Ken, reading him carefully. "And why not?"

Ken assumed a tense, almost battle-ready position. "Your Majesty, this has all the makings of a trap! There's a number of suspicious things about this letter. The most obvious is that we're asked to send our men to this place called Emild. King Nicholas never told us of any such country before! Nor did his successors Edmond or Gadrios."

"Perhaps Cypress first encountered them during King Nicholas's reign."

"That is highly unlikely."

The queen sighed. "And what would you deduce from Nick sending us off to a fabricated country on a fabricated mission?"

"Isn't it obvious? Our men would have no idea of the layout of the land or what they're up against. They'd be easy to capture."

"What would be the point of that?" She turned her gaze away from Ken, watching the door for Ruce's arrival. "All that effort into gaining our trust, and an elaborate lie to have us send troops to them, just so that they could take a few of our men hostage?"

"Alright - I haven't figured out the exact details of the scheme! The point is, all evidence shows that King Nicholas is up to _something_. We don't know what, but if we send him this aid we'll be playing right into it. There could be some innocent explanation for all this. I truly hope that there is. But in all likelihood there isn't. Your Majesty, we'd be fools to take those odds."

"Very well. You've made your point, I must admit."

"Thank you."

"And I disagree with it." She turned to look him in the eye. "Regardless of suspicious circumstances, likelihoods, and other such things, we must trust King Nicholas. That is the first rule of being allies: trust. Without that, nothing can work between the two nations."

"What reason has that man given you to trust him?"

"Ken, I know this is difficult for you to truly accept, but you know him even less than I do. Fortunately, Ruce is on his way here right now, for me to make him leader of this expedition. Surely you agree that few people, Guardianan or Cypressian, know Nick as well as Ruce does?"

She meant to continue, but at that moment the man in question arrived. After Ruce had properly bowed and received Anri's permission to approach, she handed him King Nicholas's letter and gave him a minute to read it over. In the silence that followed, Ken watched the young dwarf with obvious interest. Anri suspected that Ken found it a bit of a mystery that Ruce, who had been in the party which Nick had so deceived, would continue to vouch for him in most matters. She herself didn't understand why the prince had neglected to reveal his identity, but given the deeds he'd done on their adventure, it seemed quite irrelevant.

At length, Ruce handed her back the letter. He looked rather nonplussed.

"Well?"

"Your Majesty, if Nick is asking for help, it can only be because he truly needs it."

Anri turned to Ken. "Are you satisfied?"

Ken slumped. "I'll accept your word, Ruce. But I still strongly advise Your Majesty to politely decline the king's request. His letter makes clear that the survival of Cypress itself is not relying upon our aid. It would be no great loss if my suspicions are misplaced."

"No," Anri said firmly. "I will not allow our relationship with our allies to languish. Never again can that be allowed to happen."

"Your Majesty, if you would simply approach this with an open mind..."

"Both Guardiana and Cypress lose if our alliance is not nourished. Ruce, if you are willing, I would have you gather a force and lead them to our allies' aid."

----------------------

They made a dramatic entrance, Claude flying the three of them into the main chamber and setting them down before the one Halron took to be their leader. Reacting quickly, half of the raiders took up positions by their remaining prisoners, and the other half rushed to Dane's protection. Halron could understand Claude's point better now, seeing how prepared the raiders were to kill their hostages.

"Stand back," Lady Sarah ordered them in a commanding voice. "We would not have come back here if we were not prepared to deal with you."

"Ho! And how do you plan on doing that before we kill all your friends?"

"You hold seven of our comrades, but if this comes to a fight, all twelve of you will die. While you were waiting for Grawler to return from his pursuit, we alerted the other two Cypressian squads which are moving through this area. We chose to try negotiating first, but even as we speak our other comrades are moving into this cavern. If you do not surrender by the time they arrive, they will show no mercy."

"Haw! So a bluff is all you've got up your sleeves!" Dane gestured with his sword. "Take 'em, b-"

"Lady Sarah!" a voice called out from behind them. A strangely familiar voice...

Halron gave a quick glance back to see who it was, not daring to move from his battle-ready stance while he still had a dozen raiders before him. When he saw who, his blood went cold in his veins.

"Lady Sarah, Lieutenant Gregor says he will grant you only two more minutes," Binuto said, saluting her with his sword. "After that, he's moving in."

It took a moment for Halron to register that Binuto was actually _helping_ them, at least in their current predicament. The raiders would realize Binuto was not one of the group they had captured, and that would lead credence to Lady Sarah's story of reinforcements. So long, of course, as Lady Sarah and Claude did not show surprise; Halron wasn't sure that either of them knew Binuto.

With an effort, he took his eyes off his longtime antagonist and looked back to the raiders, though he kept an alert ear. Dane swallowed. "So. We still got hostages."

"Yes," the Lady Sarah acknowledged, "But this whole conflict is senseless. We were not knowingly invading your territory, nor can I even understand why you would assume that we were."

"Huh. I find that hard to believe, little lady. This cavern is in no man's land, no arable land or hunting ground anywhere nearby, and it's not on the path to anywhere. That's why we chose it for our hideout. You must be helluva lost."

"No. In fact, we are being pursued by a band of raiders. I initially assumed you to be that band, but I realize by your words - and the absence of blue scarves around your foreheads - that you are a different group."

The raider's eyes narrowed. "Blue scarves... that can't be right. That's the uniform of the Blue Dragons. Their turf is practically on the opposite border of Emild. Exactly how far did that bunch supposedly chase you?"

"Less than a day's journey," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

The raiders gave each other uneasy looks at this statement. In the pause, Halron cast a glance at Binuto, but the cold-blooded human didn't show even the slightest interest in the proceedings.

The leader of the raiders seemed incapable of adding any fresh remarks, so Lady Sarah added, "I have some suspicions that they are being coerced into killing us."

Scowling, Dane said, "Doesn't matter what their reasons are, they're supposed to stay on their home turf! They think because they're a lousy elite class band, they can just hunt wherever they want?"

"What do you mean by calling a pack of bandits an 'elite class'?

He chuckled lightly. "It basically means they've got enough men to tangle with the Emild army. Bloody dogs are spoilin' our hunting grounds, chasing refugees into our caves... Alright, the matter at hand. We turn the prisoners loose, you leave us alone?"

She nodded. "We have no desire for senseless bloodshed."

"Okay, boys, let 'em go."

Lady Sarah waited until the raiders had begun sawing through the ropes binding their captives before turning to Binuto and coolly ordering him, "Go and tell Lieutenant Gregor to call off the attack."

Binuto nodded and ran off. Halron felt more uneasy than ever at his nemesis, however. Was this a gambit to earn Lady Sarah's trust, so that he could more easily get at him and Varmo?

In short order, the other five guards and Lady Sarah's assistants had rejoined them. Dawn celebrated by vigorously stretching all her now unconstrained limbs, and when the raiders handed over her weapons, she eagerly snatched them back. Jaha was somewhat less happy, rubbing at the lump on his head with a pained expression. When his pot was returned to him, he grumbled, "Would you look at this? It's got another big dent in it now."

Once her gag had been removed, Lana would not stop gasping with fear, watching the raiders around her with wide eyes. She clung to Theo's arm as though it were her handhold to keep from falling off a high precipice. Theo allowed it, though not without some obvious discomfort.

Varmo looked weak with relief. Smiling at Halron, he said, "It makes sense that that birdwarrior would choose to rescue you over me. Thank you for coming back."

"It was the Lady Sarah's decision," Halron grunted.

Varmo shrugged. "Nevertheless."

"Well, go on," Dane prodded. "Get outta here. If you can get rid of those Blue Dragons, I give my word that from now on, any Cypressians we run into will have our aid."

"A kind offer," Lady Sarah replied. "But I doubt that just the seven of us could accomplish such a task."

He stared at her for a minute, and Halron could almost see the gears slowly turning. "Haw! So you were bluffing after all, huh? Wonder how we overlooked that other kid. Well, fair's fair." He pulled at a fold of his cheek with his thumb and forefinger. "Leaves us all in a nasty predicament, though. The Blue Dragons must have the skills to track you. Even if they aren't fast enough to catch you here, the simplest thing for them to do when they enter this area is wipe us out. We hold good territory, and with us gone there'll be no one to call them out for wandering outside their turf. Heck, they're a big enough clan that they could just send half their men to hunt you down, so they wouldn't even be relocating, just doubling their territory. Much easier, more profitable than having to worry about us while they try to take you out."

"Then you do not have enough men to -"

"What you see here, little lady, is pretty much what you get."

"Then I suppose the most sensible thing for us both... is to join forces."

Dane raised an eyebrow. "The odds will probably still be pretty long, you know."

"Long odds have never defeated Cypress before." She gave a proud nod of her head at the little man. "Now, perhaps we might take a few minutes to refresh ourselves. After that, I propose we make plans for the elimination of our mutual foe."


	17. Chapter 17: Internal Affairs

- Chapter 17: Internal Matters -

The blanket was thoroughly comfortable to sit on, and the servants had prepared a veritable festival of foods: grapes, cleerums, sandwiches, and rice. Taking a piece of succulent fruit into her mouth, she could sit back and enjoy the warm glow of the afternoon's fading daylight.

But of course, it was the company for this picnic which was most pleasing to Mayfair. Barro was a delightful boy, lively yet not spoiled; he babbled about trivial matters while eating his lunch without complaint. Nick she already saw far too much of, but only by occasions of the cold affairs of governing and the still less pleasant affairs of their bedroom. This was an opportunity to enjoy his company as a friend.

It also pleased her that the picnic had been Nick's idea. It was important that the royal family spend some time together, he'd said, even when they were as non-traditional a grouping as the three of them. She wasn't sure if it was that respect for the bonds of love, or the fact that he had allowed himself enough free time to indulge in it, which pleased her more. She herself was relieved to get away from it all; whenever she was not trying to organize Castle Cypress's limited troops into a solid defense, writing letters to various regional officials, or tending to the sick and injured, she ended up worrying about the children she'd sent into Emild. A change had been needed.

"I caught a toad yesterday, cousin Nicholas," Barro said after swallowing his latest bite of sandwich.

"That's very good," he answered with well-affected interest, scooting towards him. The boy was seated between the two of them, so this movement brought him closer to Mayfair as well. "I never managed to catch one when I was a boy." Knowing Nick, he'd probably never tried such a fanciful activity.

"It was really hard," Barro stressed. "I've been practicing for months to catch one. You have to sit behind him and be very quiet... and then you reach out as quick as you can with both hands."

"Where do you keep him?"

"I set him free. Eru says toads are important because they eat creatures that eat up the garden. So I wanted to..." He considered his words. "...let the toad continue in his work."

Nick smiled. "That was the right thing to do, Barro. Good thinking."

Mayfair echoed his smile. Nick was always so encouraging towards Barro, even as he instructed him; he seemed to instinctively know how to nurture and guide. He would be a good father someday.

Her own thought startled her. Despite her firm conclusion that her attraction to Nick was both unhealthy and false to her inner emotions, she kept noticing new reasons to desire him.

She became aware of Nick's hand reaching out to her. "Speaking of vegetation," he said with a different smile, handing her a bright flower, "...here is a piece that made me think of you, my wife."

It was a rare beauty, and she blushed as she accepted it. This had to be strictly for Barro's benefit; Nick would not embarrass her simply for his own enjoyment. He almost certainly didn't even pick the flower himself, not when he had dozens of servants to hunt it down for him.

"Thank you." After a pause, she set the flower aside. Barro watched her with an uncertain smile. "It's flattering that you would think of me," she tried.

Barro's smile withered, and Nick quickly returned, "You are always in my thoughts, whatever I am doing. Barro as well."

_More lies, to humor Barro and his faith that Nick and I are happy to be married. He's overdoing it badly, but at least his intentions are noble._

"I... think of you often, as well," she said, wishing Nick had not brought her into this awkward game. To escape further embarrassment, she feigned an especial interest in cutting up a cleerum for Barro. Yet she could still feel Nick's nearness. What she was feeling for him was thoroughly confusing, and she could not master it, even now that she understood its cause.

After examining her emotions in one of her rare moments to herself, Mayfair was forced to admit that, in at least two senses, she _was_ in love with Nick, and had been for almost as long as she'd known him.

Firstly, she loved him as her king. She well-remembered her surprise when she first learned his identity. It astonished her that this modest, gentle, brave young man could be the son of Gadrios. She had only seen Gadrios once, but by his decrees and what her own father told her of him, she knew him well enough.

She could respect King Gadrios's wisdom, but she could not love him. She loved King Nicholas. Immediately. Long before he was even crowned. He had all his father's wisdom and strength, and all the compassion and benevolence his father lacked. He was the very personification of Cypress's ideal king. Letting him fight the god of Iom was one of the hardest things she had ever done; the thought of Cypress losing such a king at the very dawn of his reign was almost unbearable. She would do anything for her king. The only thing she had ever refused him was her hand in marriage, and that only because he did not love her. Because the lack of love in their marriage would be bad for her, and ultimately, bad for Cypress... but also in large part because it would be bad for him. He deserved better, and she would have given much to see him married to a woman who would make him fully happy.

It all came back to devotion to her king. Yes, she sometimes argued with him, even defied him, but only because he sometimes needed a nudge in the right direction, and when it came right down to it, she would tend the castle pigs if he ordered her to. Not without protest, but she would do it. She would have preferred death by torture than to so submit to any other king of Cypress.

Secondly, of course, she loved him as her friend. She had few enough of those, and in spite of his insensitivity, Nick was one of the best. He was supportive, respectful, even caring... insensitive, yes, but because that was the way he was, not because he was trying to be cruel or mask his feelings.

Those two things were not related to the love of Eros, but when combined with one other factor, her confusion was inevitable. Since well before her father's death, she had unconsciously sealed away her sexual impulses so that she could focus entirely on helping people. Marriage had broken that seal. The result was that she had gone through her emotional maturity backwards: her introduction to warfare first, then her marriage, and now she was having her first "crush". _Small wonder that my feelings became so confused. When I love and desire him in every way but one... how easy to begin to think I might love him in that way as well. Yet I cannot allow that. To deny love is unhealthy, but to yield to a cheap imitation of love is worse._

"Are you finished, Barro?"

Barro rushed down his last slice of cleerum, and nodded at his cousin.

"Good. I would like to show you a few survival skills, and it occurs to me that the woods over there would be a perfect place to work on them. Come along."

Mayfair started. "Nick, I really don't think that's necessary."

He smiled. "It's a fine way of wrapping up this particular outing, isn't it?"

Nick reached out for Barro's hand, and the boy eagerly gave it to him, apparently under the impression that his cousin was taking him on an exciting hike in the woods. Mayfair sat speechless, frustrated that she had no retort that wouldn't lead to them arguing in front of Barro. Nor could she offer to accompany them; a squad of soldiers had returned that morning, and she had to hear their report.

"Well then," she said coldly, standing up. "Since we are apparently finished with enjoying each other's company, I shall be on my way."

Nick nodded. "It was a pleasure having you along." As they walked away, Barro waved to her in parting.

_This,_ she thought to herself, _is why I've never before admitted to myself that I am so taken by Nick the king: he still clings to his father's example on occasion. Good spirits, doesn't he realize how he demeans himself every time he imitates that man? To see him stifle his own potential as a king is the height of frustration._

Mayfair replayed that thought and caught her own mistake. _Not just as a king; his interactions with Barro have nothing to do with the crown. It's his potential as a man where he loses the most._

----------------------

An air of satisfaction with both himself and his fortunes lay over Nick as he and Barro returned to the castle. It had been an exceptionally good day. He had tended to all his affairs of ruling, and the time spent with his... family, such as it was, had greatly relaxed his mind. It was in ruling that he found his joy, but it also undeniably strained even his mental facilities. With Mayfair and Barro, he could truly relax.

It was beginning to genuinely trouble him, however, that he was so willing to put Mayfair at risk. The only thing that made him anxious about his plan was potentially losing his valuable queen and general, and his child; the prospect of losing Mayfair herself bothered him, but without emotional force. Somehow, that felt wrong.

Barro, who had been skipping along somewhat ahead of him, suddenly tripped. Nick leapt forward and caught him by the shoulder. "Don't be so careless," he said in remonstrance. Barro just smiled pleasantly and thanked him. Nick wondered, oddly, how much it would have bothered him if the boy had fallen and hurt himself.

He thought of the people who had been most dear to him. When he was scarcely more than a babe, his father had gone on a trip to Tyber. Presumably it had been a special diplomatic mission of some sort, but at the time he had misunderstood and thought his father was going to war. He had clung tightly to his father's cloak, refusing to let him go - and when his father did go, he was inconsolable in his sobbing.

And his sister brought to mind a more vivid memory. He had been something like 11 or 12 years old... They had a fight over something foolish. Jenny ran, hurling angry taunts back at him. He ran after, even angrier than her. To elude him, Jenny climbed a tree, wriggling up with the speed of a salamander, hurling fresh insults with each limb she went up. He worked his way up after his sister, loudly reminding her that father had warned them not to climb trees and informing her that after dragging her back down he was going to punish her with a good pounding. She was a faster climber than he; with him still far behind, she began crawling out upon a long branch.

Realizing that the advantage was momentarily hers made him angrier than ever. He wouldn't dare venture onto that branch after her, and she probably had a good feeling that that was the case. "Climb back here before you fall and break your worthless back!" he roared at her. Once she was a goodly distance out on the limb, Jenny turned towards him, no doubt to offer another taunt.

Then the branch gave a crack, bobbing beneath her weight.

Nick's heart felt as though it had just swallowed a stone the size of a horse. Jenny carefully readjusted herself on the branch, but he still could think of nothing but the danger she was in. He was young then, but old enough to remember their little brother, and their aunt. He knew that death was real. It was reaching out to claim his sister. Though he'd delivered his earlier warning with the know-it-all attitude of a child, not really thinking of how a fall could break someone's back, in that moment he saw that a fall on the wrong spot and she might break even her neck.

In the blink of an eye he broke down, begging and pleading with her to return. He sobbed desperate tears as he swore that he would do anything if she just went back up the branch to him.

He meant it, too. He would have gladly submitted to whatever humiliation Jenny could devise for him, just for the joy of having her safe.

When she climbed back to him, he whispered his most fervent thanks and clung to her with one arm as he carefully climbed back down the tree. When they again reached the ground, his relief was so strong that he had laughed for joy.

Yet though they had other fights(albeit none so fierce), Jenny never asked him to make good on his promise. Indeed, the only sign that she remembered the incident at all was that she became almost a constant companion in the months after.

What he had felt for his father and his sister in those moments... how had he lost it? He had assumed it died with his family, but now he realized it might not be so simple. Before Woldol came, he and his sister had already been growing apart... or at least, he had been growing away from her. That was probably as it should be, for it would not have been long before she was married off, and he forced to undertake preparation for the throne in earnest; after that, they would have seen each other but rarely. But in the months before her death, he remembered a feeling of nostalgia and regret, a sense that perhaps the pain he'd felt at seeing Jenny teetering on an insecure tree branch was better than feeling nothing at all.

Had Woldol truly taken the capacity for love away from him, or had he already given it up?

"Are you alright, Nick?"

He looked up, noting that he had arrived at the castle entrance. "Fine, Gyan. Have the cooks a supper ready for myself and Barro?"

"I suppose so. I was thinking more of this letter that arrived from Sharland." He handed it over.

"Thank you. Anything to report from your investigation?"

Gyan grunted. "I have a few suspicions. We can go over them after, if you want."

"Actually, I would like to go through some of my papers before they start building up. Your report can wait."

----------------------

Apparently he and Barro had stayed out beyond the hour for which the cooks were prepared to work, for they were served only a stew and some bread for supper. They ate it in silence, but it was a good silence. He had showed his cousin a good deal about survival that day, and now they could rest and enjoy a warm meal. And after all, they had already talked plenty during the picnic.

A part of him could not help but think back to Mayfair. If he could have loved anyone, surely it would be her: she was a close friend, his wife, and prospectively the mother of his children. The notion of losing her should have given him some portion of the anxiety he'd felt over his father and his sister. But it did not.

_Which means what?_ he demanded of himself. _That I do not hold Mayfair, or anyone, as close to my heart as I did them? That my only true loves are Cypress, wealth, power, and justice?_ He chuckled at himself.

Barro smiled. "What's funny?"

"I was thinking," he answered, "...of how no matter how content and fulfilled one is, it is mortal nature to want more and more. All I've wanted since I was young was to be king. Now I am, and the reality has not disappointed my expectations. Moreover, I have you, Gyan, Mayfair, and all my friends. Yet still I ask for more to be added to my happiness."

"Like what? I mean... What more do you want to be added?"

"You wouldn't understand yet. It's nothing very important." _After all, the capacity for love is a personal quality, and a king by his nature does not need personal affairs. I could, and did, love when I was younger, and I should simply be grateful for that._

Still smiling, Barro commented, "You have a good laugh."

"Thank you." He got to his feet, and Barro accordingly did the same. "It's time for you to go to bed. Let's go find Gyan."

He opened the door to the dining room, and found Gyan standing directly behind it. In all likelihood, he had been listening in. "Watch over Barro, will you?"

Gyan nodded. "Extra work to do tonight, Nick?"

"You might say that. At any rate, I'd like to read this letter."

Indeed, as he sat down at his desk, that was the first thing he tended to. The letter had come from Princess Muriel, which naturally made it an interesting read, even though there was only one actual piece of business. To be precise, she apparently was feeling rather dreary and hoped to enliven her spirits with a visit to Castle Cypress. In point of fact, she had already departed without waiting for a reply, excusing herself by saying that if her presence at Castle Cypress were a problem, she would be quite satisfied with simply making the trip and going back to Sharland.

It was a cover, of course. Using a friendly visit to look for the strengths and weaknesses of one's political rivals was a standard part of the game; Muriel would even expect him to realize what she was doing. The only troublesome part was her apparent hurry. Even with her avowal that she wouldn't impose herself if unwanted, coming without an invitation was an imposition on his hospitality - a needless display of lack of social tact. Obviously she was expecting something to happen at Castle Cypress soon.

Putting the letter down for the moment, he ran over the possibilities. Could Sharland be monitoring the situation with Emild? That might fit. But then, perhaps Muriel's reasons for coming didn't matter; her being on hand should simply make his plan progress more swiftly.

"Assuming, of course, that you haven't underestimated her."

Nick looked up, only to confirm the presence whose voice he immediately recognized. "No," he said hoarsely.

His father smiled with indulgence, laced with contempt. "I gather that is not a response to my hypothesis."

"You've never appeared outside the library before," he said, his hand blindly grasping at Muriel's letter while his eyes were still riveted to the apparition.

"You truly believed me to be restricted to individual rooms? I go where I wish."

"Then go back to the afterlife. Why would you want to leave the place prepared for you there?"

"We have business, my son. You need to -"

"I'm not changing my policies," he said, coming to his feet. "You can call me stubborn all you wish, but I am not you, and I refuse to follow your ways. Your decisions were all wise, father, but that was because they were easy for you to make. You... you never had to see their pain."

"If you're not going to change your policies, at least admit your true reasons for having them! All this childish magnanimity, where do you think it flows from? You would have me - and yourself - believe that that is your true self?"

Nick folded his arms. "Why wouldn't you believe that, given how I was raised? You taught me justice from the cradle on, and the world taught me love."

Ignoring that retort, his father went on, "And don't you think it a rather remarkable coincidence, finding your ideal queen in one of your closest friends?"

"She became one of my closest friends _because_ she is Cypress's ideal queen."

"Of course... but have you considered that, specifically, the possibility of marriage might have stirred your interest in befriending her? I think you believed you could love her."

"Disregarding your complete ignorance of how we became friends..." Nick chuckled. "Perhaps I do love her. I remember when I met her, the first thing that struck me was how well-spoken she was. Courtly, even. Quite rational in her ideas, as well. But perhaps what stole my heart was her great inner strength, her ability to come through such horror and tragedy unscathed."

"All qualities desirable in a queen."

"Yes, of course," Nick sighed. "I don't see what point this topic of conversation has. If I had led Mayfair to believe I loved her, it would be one thing, but from the beginning I was completely honest about my feelings. Of what importance are the feelings that remain solely in my heart?"

"You have no heart, Nicholas!" his father snapped. "That's the whole point. It's your desire to pretend that you have one which is leading you into this foolishness."

The words should not have hurt. After all, he knew they were not true. He had never chosen to have this need to help people. All he had done was accept that he knew what true suffering was and that he wanted to protect others from it. There was no delusion there, only honest feeling. Yet still the words stung.

"...No heart? You deny that I love Jenny, my mother, and you?"

"What credit is it to you that you love people who are already dead?"

Nick fell back to his desk. "Leave me be, father," he murmured. "I have work to do."

There were no audible footsteps, but somehow he felt his father leave - perhaps simply by the absence of his voice. He bent over the pile of papers awaiting him.

_It's ridiculous. How could I have imagined a sense of compassion into being? When I think of recalling all my soldiers to Castle Cypress, all that fills my mind is the thought of people suffering from my negligence, my bad decisions. How could such a feeling stem from delusion?_

A new footstep interrupted his thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye, he recognized the familiar clasped hands and their soft, stubby fingers. A feeling of irritation surprised him, voiced by the thought, _Haven't I seen enough of her lately? If I hadn't followed her advice with regard to Barro, these doubts about my feelings, concerns that carry no purpose in serving my people, would never have arisen._

She was waiting for him to finish whatever he was working on before disturbing him, but he sharply turned to her and said, louder than he'd intended, "Accusing me of not loving Barro is unjust, Mayfair. Simply because I do not -"

"I never suggested -" she began, startled.

"You did," he cut her off, not bothering to reprimand her for the interruption. "Your words were 'The Nick I know loves his cousin', implying that my actions showed that I do not." His fist clenched. "I'm trying to teach him how to survive, damn it! Is that not the greatest sign of love?"

There was silence for a moment.

"I would say there are greater ones," Mayfair said first, in the manner of a schoolteacher, before dropping to a more sensitive, penitent tone. "But as far as your general point is concerned... I don't understand why you chose to bring it up now, but you're right. That was a very closed-minded thing for me to say." She bowed her head, breaking her eyes from his gaze. "I still think you shouldn't worry Barro about the problems of adulthood, but he is your cousin, and you should raise him however you think best. I apologize for interfering with that."

Her voice - no, her _reason_ - brought him back to himself. "No," he sighed, his fist relaxing. The sudden diffidence in Mayfair's tone, as much as his displayed lack of control, made him regret his brief outburst. "You were right to interfere; you know far more about children than I do. And I suspect you are right, too, on that specific point; Barro should be allowed to live as a child for a while. It's only... that had my father not taught me so well, I would have died. If I do not teach Barro equally well..."

Mayfair cleared her throat. "That's very understandable, that you would be worried for him. If you wish to keep your mind at ease..."

"No." He turned back to his desk. "That would not be fair to Barro. After all, the only reason I love him is because I've lost everyone else. Simply keeping Barro alive is enough to make me happy." This stark confession almost made him choke in revulsion at his own selfishness. "Barro deserves better than to be simply kept alive. From now on, you will shelter him from any attempt I make at maturing him."

"Good spirits, Nick, you can't actually be taking what I said to heart! You do love Barro; it was never my intention to imply otherwise."

"Yes, I do love him." He gave a half-smile. "But the sort of love I offer is not worth having. Forgive me for losing myself a moment ago; I don't know what came over me."

"It's stress," she said patiently. "You've even been seeing your father..."

"It's the visions of my father that are bringing me stress," he returned. Brought back to that line of thought, he got up to open the door and called to a passing servant. "You there: have Yeesha sent here. She should come at her earliest convenience."

"'..._are_ bringing...'?" Mayfair noticed. "Do you mean you've still...?"

Nick dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand. "It is being dealt with. Now, what did you want to discuss? You must have come to me for a reason."

She looked down. "It is nothing. ...Nothing that I would trouble you over when you are under such strain, that is."

"Strain? My struggles are nothing compared to my blessings. Look at me, Mayfair." He smiled. "I have everything. Believe me, it is only the shadows of my past that prevent me from being the happiest man alive."

She hesitated. "Then I respectfully ask you to warn me the next time you intend to put on a performance for Barro. Receiving that flower from you was not something I was prepared for."

"Forgive me for that," he said with a slight bow. "But I do not trust your acting ability. Besides, it wasn't entirely for Barro's sake."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"You are my wife. While I might not be personally inclined to treat you with such thoughtfulness, it certainly is your due." He put a hand to her shoulder. "I know this can never compare to what you could have had if you'd married for love, but I can make things easier on you, can I not?"

"I don't know," she answered. "But it is very kind of you to try."

----------------------

Mayfair's appointment with the midwife came the next morning. She wished she could have postponed it; the events of the previous day made her feel less prepared than ever to give Nick a child. But she reminded herself that even if she postponed the knowing, she could not postpone the child if there was one.

After a few moments, the midwife was finished. As Mayfair began to cover herself again, she said, "I can make him out now."

Mayfair waited, not daring to move or say anything.

"He is still too small to identify his gender, but..." The midwife bowed. "It is an honor to be the first to lay eyes upon the heir to the crown."


	18. Chapter 18: Inquisitions

Author's Notes: I don't expect anyone to believe me, but the less than subtle parallels between the two scenes of this chapter were all completely unintentional. My apologies for these literary mishaps; hopefully the quality of the actual story will make up for them.

- Chapter 18: Inquisitions -

"This is completely unnecessary, good sir," Yurligi said, straining at the ropes binding her hands behind the back of her chair with discomfort.

"I... really hope that it is," Deanna said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. _Blessed Iom, I hate doing this._ "But I have a wife and a daughter now. For their sakes, I can't take chances." He looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry I... tied your wrists up so tight. We'll set you free as soon as everything is cleared up."

"Why apologisssse?" Lym snarled. "She isss the bedmate of the tyrant! The nurturer of hisss foul sssseed!"

"Lym," Deanna said softly, but in a manner that made it a plain reprimand. "You will not insult this woman's child to her face."

Lym clamped her jaw shut, glancing ruefully at Deanna. He sighed, wondering if perhaps he should have chosen to show Yurligi to Wallor instead of her. But then, Lym's ill temper somehow made her seem a less likely traitor. And he did not trust his own instinctive fear of lizardmen.

He turned back to Yurligi. "My brother never talked about Warderer having a concubine, so you'll have to explain yourself."

The woman shifted into as comfortable position as she could manage. Deanna couldn't help but notice how her bizarre purple skin contrasted with her drab, dirt-speckled clothes. "I'm not sure what to tell you, Sir Deanna... I didn't know Warderer that well. I gather that love didn't interest him... no, I _assume_ that. All I know is that he wanted an heir, so after ousting King Aaron he chose a woman to bear him one. Me."

Deanna rested his cheek in his hand. "It's not Warderer's reason for choosing you that I'm interested in. It's why you accepted."

"There's as little to tell there, Sir Deanna. I was born into a poor family, and my father died when I was young. To be chosen as the concubine of the king was a fairy tale ending for me."

"You didn't... find Warderer objectionable?"

Yurligi sighed. "Sir Deanna, I truly played no role in the governing of Iom during Warderer's reign. I spent my days in the royal bedchamber, waited upon hand-and-foot by servants but given no freedom to leave the castle grounds, nor permitted to attend even the most mundane meetings of government."

A sad smile came over Deanna's face. "But you talk like a noble born, not a woman raised in poverty."

"Warderer had an extensive number of books, and I had little to do with my days but read them and listen to the servants talk," she explained without a flicker of discomposure. "Warderer saw that I was well-taken care of, gave my mother a somewhat less sumptuous room to stay in, and was tolerable enough a lover. Beyond that, I know nothing of him."

"He killed my brother," Deanna said without thinking.

"I know." Yurligi's face softened. "I'm sorry."

"And you... you bore his heir."

"If you wish to -" She caught herself.

"...Yes?" Deanna queried, looking into her face and realizing, to his dismay, that she feared him as one feared an inquisitor. His voice turned gentle. "Finish that. Don't be afraid. I'd only hurt you if I thought... you intended to kill me."

Yurligi swallowed. "If you wish to condemn me for serving as Warderer's concubine, you must also condemn your brother for serving as his general."

There was a silence, broken only by a sharp angry hiss coming from Lym.

"You're right." Deanna bowed his head in shame. "I'm sorry. ...So... after you found out you were pregnant... what did you do?"

When Yurligi answered, there was noticeably less anxiety in her voice. "I was overjoyed, of course. Before Warderer, my life was poverty. With Warderer, my life was cold wealth. Amelo changed all that for me. He brought love back into my life."

"And..." He hesitated. "Please don't take this as an accusation... were you also pleased that you succeeded in giving Warderer his heir?"

"I never thought about that aspect of it. Warderer made a special visit when he was told I was pregnant; he gave me some stern directions to ensure that no mishap happened to his son while in the womb. Aside from that, he never showed any sign that he thought of the child as his, so I tended to think of Amelo as solely mine." She sighed. "Perhaps I spoiled him... He grew up to be a rather fractious child. But he can be very sweet, and he's gentle as a lamb. The worst of his behavior is sitting down and throwing a tantrum when he doesn't get what he wants. It was very hard, at first, when we had to leave the castle..."

"Wait." Deanna held up a hand. "Go back. Did you have any other children?"

"No... not really. When Amelo was old enough to sleep on his own, Warderer moved me back into the royal bedchamber, and after a few months I conceived again." She hung her head. "It proved to be... a stillbirth."

Deanna swallowed, wishing he hadn't asked. "You don't have to -"

"It would have been very hard to recover from if I didn't have Amelo to comfort me... it wasn't hard so long as I had him, but it was painful." She smiled at Deanna's confused look. "It's a difficult feeling to explain... It was the greatest sorrow I've ever had to face, but the joy I had from Amelo was greater. Nonetheless, I was worried about having to deal with my duties once again. Needlessly, as it turned out; Warderer never had me return to the royal bedchamber again. When I eventually asked him about it, he said that he already had his heir and that his time and effort was focused upon a project that would make further children superfluous."

"Iom's revival."

"Yes. I suspect that is what he meant."

Deanna pondered for a moment. "Did Warderer have any other concubines?"

"I do not know for sure, but I highly doubt it. During my selection, he did not take any other woman, nor express any interest in having more than one. I suppose he may have taken another while I was occupied with Amelo, but he never mentioned her. And he would have had no reason to keep such information from me."

"So Amelo is Warderer's sole heir." Yurligi nodded. "One more question. ...What did you feel when Warderer died?"

"You're hoping to hear that I was indifferent, I suspect." She shook her head. "I will not lie. When I felt his death, I was frightened. I asked one of the servants to take Amelo and me out of the palace before the invaders or loyalists to King Aaron arrived, and thankfully she was a good enough friend to risk her own neck in helping me."

Before she could go further, Deanna interjected, "I... beg your pardon, but what did you mean when you said you... 'felt his death'?"

"My people have... certain empathetic senses," she explained. "Through intercourse, Warderer imprinted his spirit on my empathetic vision. Most feelings are too subtle to pick up on, of course. But the night he died, I felt a long stretch of violence, followed by flares of outrage, and finally a barrage of hatred and something like despair. Then the bright spark that comes with sudden death." She paused. "After I found a place to stay where I was reasonably sure that I would not be found, I was also hit by a sense of loss at Warderer's death. I never loved him, but he had, at the least, provided for me."

"He must have... given you a sense of security, as well."

"Yes. And it was very difficult for Amelo to adjust... being so suddenly thrust from the life of a prince to a life of anonymous poverty. He didn't make it easy on me, either." Her eyes softly closed. "Though he's seemed to adjust these past few months, taking care of him has been very trying since his father died. But Amelo is all I have. I need to get him back, I... I love him more than I can likely make you understand."

Deanna nodded. "Lym, cut her loose."

"But you cannot even be sssure she isss who she claimssss to be!"

"She's telling the truth; I can feel it. I'll take the fall if I'm wrong."

With a hiss of displeasure, Lym did as she was instructed. After pulling her hands free, Yurligi rubbed her wrists and murmured a word of thanks. But Deanna felt guilty that he'd had her bound in the first place. He didn't like to mistreat innocent people, not even for Natas_ha's sake... In a way, especially not for Natasha's sake. If she were here now, would she be happy with me?_

He shook his head. _All I did was tie Yurligi up for a few minutes; it'll more than make up for it if I find her child for her. If only the chances of that happening were a little better..._ "Can you tell me... how Amelo was taken?"

She closed her eyes so tightly that her brow wrinkled, as though the very thought of the incident were too painful. "I answered a knock at my door one evening and found a dozen Iom soldiers outside. Their leader asked for Amelo, said that the time had come 'for him to fulfill his destiny'. I knew that the official powers in the capital are opposed to Warderer's line, so I assumed they had come to kill Amelo. When I feigned ignorance, they forced their way in. I cried out a warning before they covered my mouth, but of course..." Her voice choked. "...instead of running away, he came to see what trouble his mother was in. They took him and released me. When I fought to get Amelo back, one of them knocked me out. That was the last I've seen of him."

Deanna considered her story for a minute, doing his best to ignore the way she watched him in anxious expectation. Assuming she was telling the full truth, there were only two real possibilities. The first was that the people in the capital were responsible. If that was the case, the boy was probably already dead. The second possibility was that followers of Warderer had found him and were going to crown him king. It disturbed him that the less frightening of the two possibilities was that an innocent boy was dead.

"Lym," Deanna tried, "...do you know anything about this? Could Jengh have...?"

"Mosssst unlikely," she returned with unusual coolness. Her attention seemed focused on studying Yurligi in a speculative manner. "I'd have heard about sssuch an important project."

_But there's also Frecor... or Lym could be lying. Or most likely, one of the military leaders or officials in the capital who I had more fleeting acquaintances with could be responsible. Too many possibilities._

_The other option is even worse. Most Warderer loyalists operate covertly... and any one of them with the power to kidnap Amelo must be unknown even to Edwin and the rest, or they'd have stripped him of his power already. So I have no way of even knowing who the suspects are in that case._

"I'm sorry... lady Yurligi," he said sadly. "But without even having any idea who's taken your son, I don't see how I can help you find him..."

She blinked. "Finding him is not the problem."

"What? You said... you needed someone to search for him..."

"Did I?" She seemed to flush slightly, though her skin did not change color. "I'm sorry; I was a bit hysterical... I only meant that we will have to search every last corner of the shrine, as they've probably hid him well."

_The shrine?_ "Wait... How do you know where he is?"

"I've told you, I have empathetic senses, and Amelo is my son."

Deanna nodded, and opened his mouth to agree to help - but then it all fell into place. _A plea for help... leading me right to a specific location... and somehow she knew where I was... coming to me right after I found Aaron's first heir..._

He began to formulate a way to question Yurligi around his suspicions, but Lym broke in first. "Filthy witch!" she snarled. "Don't you think we know a trap when we hear one? Of all people to go to for help, you turn to the killer of your sssson's father, and you conveniently manage to find him here?"

Deanna sighed at Lym's lack of subtlety. "Please forgive her rudeness... but she's right, lady Yurligi. Why didn't you turn to Natasha instead?"

The elfish woman looked frightened by their renewed suspicion, but her voice was calm. "Because I honestly don't know where Natasha is. I've heard rumors that she is in the capital, but I couldn't be sure, and you were closer than the capital."

"But how could you be sure where _I_ was?"

"When you killed Warderer, your spirit imprinted on my empathetic vision."

He shook his head. "I didn't kill Warderer."

"You didn't?" She looked genuinely at a loss. "That's strange. The emotional resonance between the two of you was extremely strong and negative. You must have _wanted_ to kill him."

"Yes," he admitted. "My brother stopped me. But then Warderer... killed him and himself as well."

"I see," she nodded. "The three of you must have been so tied together emotionally... all that hate and love... it felt like you had actually killed him."

Deanna folded his arms. "So... I'll assume for the moment that that's actually how you found me. How did you know I would consider helping you?"

"Even secluded as Amelo and I are, we did hear about a man named Deanna having killed Warderer. And later, people came to help the poor in our village, crediting two named Deanna and Natasha for their good works... I guessed that you two were very likely the same. It was a relief to find that you are."

The possibilities and risks tumbling through his head were making him more and more restless, so Deanna got up out of his seat and began pacing around, making sure to regularly throw glances at the other two people in the room. _Everything she says fits, but... there's no proof for any of it. So much of it depends on these "empathetic senses" she says she has... Damn it, what am I saying? No one would make up something like that; there are far more believable lies she could have used, lies which couldn't be disproved. And for the rest of it... I do believe she's telling the truth._

_But can I take a risk like that? If I die, then... Natasha, Carla..._

_There's so much to gain, though,_ he reminded himself. Even when it was just two people in need, helping others was very important to him. And just the thought of Natasha's smile when he would tell her how he'd taken the time to reunite a mother with her son was motivation enough for him to help. Neither taking into account that since the boy was in the shrine, his captors were almost certainly Warderer loyalists, very likely the same ones responsible for killing Aaron's heir. By going to the shrine he could prevent Warderer's heir from being crowned, save Aaron's remaining heirs, and destroy the people who were trying to kill him and Natasha, all in one stroke.

_But can I do that with just two soldiers - either of whom might be a traitor?_

----------------------

"You wanted to see me, Lady Natasha?"

She was properly dressed for the interview, having changed into one of the dresses Edwin had provided her. Much more elegant than she was used to, naturally, but the most modest one that she could come by. She had also left her bed to sit with firm dignity in a chair, and strove to maintain as impressive a posture as she could with her growing belly. Her staff, clasped confidently in her right hand, added to the picture.

Lord Jared, though far more lavishly attired, could not possibly manage to equal her dignity. Hardly his fault, of course; he did have two bulky lizardmen standing guard on either side of him, and his hands tied behind his back. Lieutenant Jengh, standing at the back of the room, watched him like a hawk.

"Just Natasha, please," she said. Lord Jared didn't say it with the respect one would normally associate with the epithet, anyway.

That seemed to impress him somewhat, and it was with greater respect that he said, "Very well... Natasha. What is it you want with me?"

She fingered the head of her staff. "Lieutenant Jengh tells me you haven't been cooperative in explaining why that assassin was let in to see me yesterday."

"Untrue. I fully explained that a friend of mine asked me to introduce Brehen to you as a favor. He said Brehen was a good friend of his, who dearly wanted to meet you and to petition you for help on some matter troubling his village." He shrugged. "I saw no harm in granting him an introduction."

"The servants told me you recommended Brehen personally."

"It was a cursory examination, I'll admit. When he was shown in to me, I greeted him, spent a few minutes conversing with him on how my friend was doing, and then passed him on to a servant for him to be shown in to see you. In that brief exchange he seemed perfectly normal and harmless, and my friend had always been trustworthy."

"That's where Jengh says you're being uncooperative," Natasha sighed. "You won't tell us who this friend of yours is."

"Of course. It's a matter of simple loyalty. And after all, Natasha, the only real criminal here is Brehen himself. I acknowledge that I am responsible for allowing him in to see you, but surely that is a forgivable error. Certainly after this incident I will no longer accept my friend's recommendations on anyone."

Distantly she had to admit that Lord Jared's smooth talk was skillfully done, but the lion's share of her being was infuriated by it. Clenching her staff more tightly, she said, "Lord Jared, someone sent an assassin to kill my daughter, and the servants let him right into my room! That's not something for you to shrug away. We need to stop the people who are doing these things!"

The noble's face softened. "I understand, Natasha, and am profoundly sorry that such a thing was permitted to happen. I fully expect some sort of punishment for my role in it, but truly, the only one who had malicious intentions towards you is Brehen. I assure you, if my friend wanted you dead, he would have said something along those lines to me. If I name him, I do you no good and my friend a lot of harm. I will not betray him."

"Not even if it means you must take his punishment?" Natasha took her staff in both hands to keep from trembling as she continued. "If you won't name your friend, then we have to assume you made him up to take the blame away from yourself. That makes you accountable for sending an assassin to kill my daughter. Do you accept that?"

Lord Jared paled. "But... You can't... You can't do that. I'm a prominent member of a long-standing family of Iom, a-and your host..."

"Your actions nearly caused the death of the daughter of Iom's savior," Jengh said in a hard voice. "You are accused of intending to do so. That is murder and treason. Be grateful that we are not considering throwing you to the rabble, for they would assuredly tear you to pieces."

Sweat was beginning to form on Lord Jared's face now. Natasha couldn't help but feel a bit of satisfaction in his discomfort, after what he had caused. But she knew that another held greater responsibility for Brehen's easy entrance; if Jared were simply trying to pass the blame, he would have slandered another lord of Iom by now, not kept silent. "Tell us who your friend is," she said. "And you will be punished only for letting Brehen in - not for sending him."

Lord Jared actually bit his lip, a surer sign than any that he was frightened past the point of dignity. For a moment, she thought he was going to give them the name they wanted. Then he shook his head.

"If my friend were the only matter, I would cooperate. It isn't right for me to suffer for his poor judgment. But for reasons that I cannot divulge, by betraying my friend, I would also be betraying our god. And no threat can frighten me more than that. Iom offers more power than all of you can wield." He hung his head. "I rely upon your mercy. That is all I have to say."

Her initial reaction at his avowed loyalty to Iom was anger. Iom was a foul god who'd tried to kill all her friends, she remembered. But... Deanna was still loyal to Iom.

----------------------

"Iom... spoke to me, during the fight in the shrine," he'd explained to her. "In a way that was more than speaking... something more like knowing. I understood him as well as any mortal being could hope to. He isn't evil... well, he _is_, but that word simplifies him far too much. It would be better to describe him... as hungry."

"He killed your brother," she had protested, but Deanna shook his head.

"Warderer killed Hindel. All Iom did was take Hindel into himself... to... to feed." He swallowed. "It's so tempting to hate him for that, I know... to say his hunger should be denied if he lets it cause so much suffering. But I felt that hunger... and it's so much deeper than any suffering I've ever felt. I won't ever join in sacrificing people to Iom... I'll even fight to stop that from happening. But I do want to ease Iom's hunger... that's why I sometimes sacrifice animals to him. I feel I have to help him, somehow. He's my god... even if he's not kindly and compassionate the way I wish he was."

He took a breath. "Besides... he has Hindel inside him. Maybe if I appease Iom somewhat... he'll make it easier on Hindel."

----------------------

Natasha had understood, then, that it was Deanna's strength that made him feel compassion for Iom. Everyone else could only fear the dark god or, like Warderer, serve him in the mad hope of some reward. Deanna was strong enough to face the terribleness of Iom's hunger and reach out to it, try to understand it.

She couldn't do that herself; just the thought of a creature wanting to consume innocent people made her shudder. But she could accept that maybe Deanna was right, and by his example she knew it was possible for someone to serve Iom with innocence. Not all his worshipers were anything like Woldol, Gordon, Barbara, and Warderer.

She looked up at Lord Jared. "Very well. Jengh... please let him go."

Both Jared and Jengh stared at her. "Let him... go?"

"We're not going to get answers out of him. We've tried every sort of threat, and... it's just cruel to keep him like this."

"But he has crimes to answer for," the lizardman returned. "Especially if he will not help us."

"He says he won't help us because he is loyal to his friend and his religion, both things I can understand. Especially friends." She bowed her head slightly. "And I believe him. He made a bad mistake, and he should be punished, but I can't stand to have him imprisoned and interrogated just because he's loyal to his friend."

"Your child was almost -"

"I forgive him. As her mother, I forgive him. If I had any doubt that he was completely ignorant of the threat to her, it would be different, but I don't. Let him go. Please."

Jengh stared at her a moment longer, then snapped to his men, "You heard her. Set him free."

Once his hands were unbound, Lord Jared promptly bowed to her from the waist. "You are most compassionate, La... Natasha. I won't forget this kindness." She didn't know what to say; she believed him, felt sorry for him, but she still didn't like him.

After he and his lizardman guards were gone from the room, Jengh turned on her. "How can you trust him?" he demanded.

After laying her staff aside, she answered, "Jengh, he doesn't have any reason to want Carla or me dead. Deanna maybe, to stop him from finding Iom's king, but Carla and I don't have any importance to Iom."

"But Brehen may have cut him a deal. His knowledge in exchange for Carla's death."

She hadn't thought of that, admittedly. She faltered for a moment before answering, "Maybe, but not likely. If Lord Jared was behind this, why did he leave such obvious tracks? Why didn't he make it seem like Brehen forced his way in? His story fits what happened much better." Jengh said nothing. "Besides, I think he's given us -"

"Rrrrrrrargh!" Jengh whipped out the dagger he wore at his hip and slammed its blade into the wall so violently that the whole room trembled with the force of it. "How much longer will we be denied the sssssatisfaction of sssmiting our enemiessss!? At the word of honored General Hindel, we refrained from turning our axesss upon the Cypressss army. Then Lord Edwin refusssed to allow us to slay the ssssuspected defendersss of Warderer's line. Then Sssir Deanna doesss the same. And now you will not even let me deal with thossse who tried to kill your child!"

_Gods... what is he saying? Attacking... the Cypress army?_ Natasha was speechless at the wrath in Jengh's voice. As she watched, almost petrified, he pulled his dagger out of the wall, slammed it in anew, and dragged it through the edifice.

"How can you humansss live like thisss!? With no conflict, complete and inane passssivity? Like dead thingssss, with heartsss that do not beat for the thrill of life! You... you..."

He slumped forward, words falling away to heavy panting, fingers releasing the grip of his dagger. Natasha was acutely aware of the sweat prickling on her face as she waited to see what he would do next.

"I..." Jengh heaved in a short breath. "I am sorry. I... lost my temper. I apologize if I frightened you." He paused, turned to look to her face for a reaction. Looking into his reptilian eyes, so alien compared to any intelligent species she'd known, she didn't know what to say or think. Jengh's face sagged. "I did not truly mean... any of those thingsss. General Hindel was a great friend to me and my men. And you and Sir Deanna have been good friends too. Friendship and respect are worth far more to us than fulfilling our urges. I was only frustrated... Pleassse, I am sorry."

Natasha looked at him silently, her heart still slowing back towards its regular beat. She wanted to forgive him, but she couldn't condone the feelings he'd expressed. She couldn't condone a love for bloodshed; not from Dawn, still less from this lieutenant who she had hardly ever actually spoken with. And she was afraid of what he might do if she did. Yet she couldn't help but be more afraid of how he would react if she rejected his apology. She knew from experience how powerful lizardmen are, and Jengh was a particularly impressive representative of the species. He could easily cause fatal harm to Carla before she could bring him down.

_If only Deanna were here... he'd be able to talk to him. He'd say..._

She swallowed. _I can say it. And I have to forgive him, too. I remember what Deanna said about lizardmen, and Jengh's a lieutenant of the Iom empire... I can't expect him to not love war. It's the way he was raised._

"A-apology accepted," she said, wishing her voice sounded as strong as Deanna's. "But don't ever do that in front of Carla again. Sometimes when I get upset, she gets upset, too."

"Yesss." He nodded with disturbing vigor. "I understand that." He seemed embarrassed, and though she wanted to reprimand him further, he slipped from the room in a heartbeat.

"Wait!" she called after him. "I may have an idea who Lord Jared's friend is!"

Jengh poked his head back in. "What?"

"You interrupted me before, when I was about to say... I think Lord Jared accidentally gave us a clue to his friend's identity."


	19. Chapter 19: see inside for title

- Chapter 19: Dreams of Peace, Dreams of Violence -

"Alright," Deanna said at last. "I'll help you."

Yurligi released a breath of gratitude. "Iom bless you, dear sir."

"First of all," he said, going back to his half-written letter lying on the floor, "...I was just writing to my wife Natasha, in the capital. I'll let her know what you've told me, and tell her to send Lieutenant Jengh and his troops to the shrine."

Her eyes lit up with dismay. "But if they launch a frontal attack, Amelo's captors may kill him!"

Deanna had been waiting for that reaction, and he watched her eyes to try to determine if she was dismayed out of fear for her child, or fear that Jengh's troops would spoil her trap. It did little good; having spent most of his life generally avoiding people, he knew little of how to judge their honesty. He could read them well enough when they were telling the truth, and on that assumption Yurligi seemed very sincere. But he did not know the telltale signs of lies; he'd begun to realize that lately.

"That's why we're going to infiltrate the shrine first. If something goes wrong, Jengh may arrive in time to save us." He paused. "Of course, we have a few days lead on Jengh, so first we'll resume our search for Aaron's heir."

There was a flash of surprise in Yurligi's eyes... but no interest. "Very well."

"Good," Deanna nodded. "Because if you want to repay me for helping you rescue your son... or at least trying to, I mean... well, I have a feeling you might be able to help us find who we're looking for."

----------------------

Brehen was dreaming again. He knew it by the unfamiliarity of his surroundings: the darkness, the cool of the underground, and the must of the dead were all considerably stronger than they ever were in his prison cell.

He had no idea where he was, but he could hear things scuttling around. Though he had no corporeal form in his dreams, the thought of some loathsome creature lurching out of the darkness still made him nervous. To escape that fear, he blindly moved on, searching for a light, a way out... something.

Blessedly, he only stumbled about for a minute before a faint, flickering light became visible. Torch light, no doubt. As he hurried towards it, he began to hear voices.

The light shone on a young man in armor, collapsed lifelessly on the ground. A strange-looking helmet that was surely meant for his small, rounded head had rolled off into the dirt. Even dead as he was, a pure and noble light shone on the youth's countenance. Brehen could not help but be struck to the heart at seeing such a valiant figure brought to such a sad end.

The voices came from beyond the young warrior, and Brehen looked to see a group of... creatures(he could find no better word for them), looking upon the fallen warrior with a certain smugness. One figure among them stood out for her relative normalcy. A human girl, tall, youthful, and breathtakingly beautiful. Curiously, she wore an elegant nightgown, and there was something distinctly... regal, about her. And her eyes, though they shared the smugness of her foul companions, were softened with a touch of pity and even kindness.

"Ah...there is still some life left in you," said one of the creatures. He looked elvish, but utterly monstrous, even for a dark elf. A mountain of a man, burning with indefinable power and luminous skin, and eyes that held the telltale twinkle of a cunning madness.

But the elvish creature did not interest him half as much as his words, for he was plainly speaking to the fallen warrior. Taking another look, Brehen realized that he was indeed beginning to show slight twitches in his cheek and nostrils. Yet that did not relieve him; however alive the compelling young man might be for the moment, it was plain that the creatures looking him over were not his friends.

The elvish beast nodded. "As you said, perhaps he is a worthy adversary. But for how long?" He gave a deep, booming chuckle that made Brehen's innards tremble. "We shall see!"

His attention turned away from the young man, to a figure Brehen had overlooked. As she came to her feet, he saw she was a perfect identical twin of the beautiful young lady, right down to the same nightgown. She looked about herself frantically. "Where... where am I?"

Her eyes fell on her twin, and she stumbled backwards in shock. "Y-you... are me...? No, it can't be. I am the Princess of Odegan."

The dark elf nodded at her, but his eyes showed cruel bemusement. "Yes... but just until tonight. From tomorrow on, she will be Odegan's Princess Satera!"

Odegan was a name familiar to Brehen, but only through his dreams. It was a distant kingdom; he never could find any clues that would place it geographically in relation to Cypress. The title of princess was what made everything fall into place. The first young lady had to be a shapeshifter of some sort; the true princess had been abducted to allow for her to take her place. It was a political overthrow in the works.

"N-no way!" The princess was still trembling at the sight of her copy. "...but, how? What will happen to me...?"

The dark elf practically roared with laughter. "You? You will become a swan and wander 'round the Lost Forest forever."

Brehen took the whole scene in at once: the towering, mirthful elf; the cool, smiling copy of Odegan's princess; the trio of loathsome monsters behind the first two; the soft-spirited princess, shaking with horror before the lot of them; and the young warrior, doubtless the princess's protector, aware of it all but incapable of lifting a finger to prevent it. It was unfair... monstrous, that no one could end this travesty.

The malevolent elf stepped forward to carry out his threat.

_No... NO!_ Brehen stared at the hapless young warrior, the closest thing to a chance for good. He had to do _something_, save the young lady somehow...

"Who are you!?"

There had to be some fight left in the valiant young warrior, there had to be! For the sake of all that was good, he had to get up and stop them!

"What are you say-"

With the sheer force of will and determination, the young man lunged to his feet, sword fresh in his grip, and plunged its blade deep into the green belly of one of the monsters. With a gurgle of shock, the creature collapsed, dead.

The elf sighed. "As I said, next to useless without water. Gueid, Doguu... avenge his death, will you?"

The two remaining creatures lunged at the young man, power throbbing through their sinews. But he was not to be stopped. He had to save that poor girl. He darted between the two of them, sweeping his sword in a wide arc that sliced through their backs. Before they could recover from that stroke, he was upon them, sword slashing in a blur, each move too swift to properly make out. All that could be determined was a shower of blood, and the ultimate collapse of his two adversaries.

"Impressive," the dark elf murmured, hefting a thick staff with a cruel barb the size of a dagger linked to it. "I would never have thought any one man could defeat those two. Not likely that a simple tool of King Ulrich can put an end to my power, though."

Spells flashed before the cruel one like a whirl of costumed dancers, three or even four different waves of power launching before him at once. Taken individually, the spells were minor, but the sheer speed and variety of the castings was beyond what Brehen had thought possible.

But the bold young warrior's energy did not falter, and he evaded the attacks with well-trained agility, working his way nearer to his opponent. Once he was close enough, a mighty swing of his blade removed the would-be usurper's head from his shoulders.

"You... you stopped them," the princess gasped. "A... a rather bloody sight, I must say, but nevertheless, sir knight, I..."

"...am indebted to you beyond all repaying," an identical voice said, in unison with the first. Brehen realized to his consternation, by the look in the young warrior's eyes, that he had no more kept track of which of the two princesses was the real one then Brehen himself had.

"Now if you could kindly get rid of this...horrible impostor," the second princess continued, trembling. "It... It's not right, I can't stand to see her; I'm the Princess Satera!"

"How dare you!" the first princess cried. "Claiming to be me, that is treason!"

"Don't presume to accuse me of your own crimes! Don't you think this brave knight knows who he rescued?"

But he didn't. It was horrible... too cruel a twist of fate, to have overcome such evil, only to have to...

----------------------

Brehen awoke in a feverish sweat, nearly falling off his pallet. Reacting with the instinct that came from thousands of such dreams, he pulled himself up, hugging his knees. The straw beneath him was reassuring.

His dreams weren't disturbing most of the time, of course. But they did tend to excite him, even when they were of things too far away in time and space for him to change. Like that one. Even if he found Odegan, he'd never be able to determine when his vision was going to happen, unless it had already happened. He only wished that all his dreams were like that: too far away to harm him or anyone he knew.

A guard rapped his spear against the bars. "Got anything for us, bud?"

Brehen shook his head, not looking. "Nothing." The guard snorted and tramped away.

It would always be nothing, in all probability. He was fortunate to have mislead Natasha into thinking otherwise, but he had absolutely no control of where and when he went in his dreams. Coming up with something provable would likely take over a year. Which was fine as far as changing the future went, for the child would still be an infant then, but in the absence of proof otherwise, his captors were sure to come to the conclusion that he was a simple madman well before a year was up.

There was, of course, one card he could always play. He could tell them where Warderer's child was; High Priest Leifo had no doubt collected him by now. But there was no guarantee they would manage to find Amelo, or that they could be sure of who he was if they did. And even if Leifo was not half as moral or respectable as Natasha, the notion of betrayal did not sit well with Brehen.

Thoughts of Helen and Binuto crossed his mind. Natasha was from Cypress; she might be interested in... No, that was useless. There was no way of proving either of their conspiracies against Cypress, and the Iomites wouldn't venture into Emild just to verify his story. He needed something going on in Iom.

The door to the prison hall clanged open again, and when Brehen looked up, Lieutenant Jengh was striding towards his cell. The lizardman had made a threat of torture the previous day. He wasn't overly worried about it; he'd been tortured more than once before. But it did trouble him that he had no idea how far Jengh would go before accepting that he was telling the truth about his prophecy.

"Sir Brehen," Jengh said, gazing on him carefully. "Do you wish to tell us who recommended you to Lord Jared, yet?"

"No," he answered. "You won't release me if I tell you, so what's the point?"

Jengh smiled. "We would enjoy torturing you, you know. But we have something better." His face leaned in close to the bars. "We think we already know who referred you. I personally see no problem with ransacking our suspect's home, and if we find nothing suspicious, killing him just in case. Natasha prefers to be merciful, but she need never know. So if you will not tell us who referred you... Perhaps, for the sake of saving an innocent life, you will tell us whether or not we have guessed right."

"And whose innocent life will be saved if I tell you that you've guessed right?"

"Lord Jared said that by betraying our quarry, he would also be betraying our god," Jengh said, taking his time. "Natasha pointed out that that must mean he is a high-ranking member of Iom's religious order. So our first suspect is High Priest Leifo. If he is not the one we are looking for, we turn our sights on another high-ranking priest."

Brehen stared at him for a moment. There was no way out. And certainly no priest could be as deserving of that fate as Leifo. He glanced at his feet.

"I rather thought it was him," Jengh said.

"I didn't say Leifo did it."

"Of course not." The lizardman turned to leave. "You didn't say a word."

"How do you know I'm not lying?" he called after him. "What if I'm loyal to Warderer's line, and would rather an innocent die than for you people to get your man?"

"I know my own people. You are no Iomite."

Brehen clung to the bars. _There's no point in hiding it now. They know all they'd need to._ "Wait. I have... information on Warderer's heir."

----------------------

"When did he tell you this?" Natasha asked, scooting forward in her chair.

"Yesterday."

She considered. "Do we still have time to stop him?"

"Of course," Jengh nodded. "It's not just a matter of placing a crown on his head, you know. As I suspect you had your coronation rituals in Cypress, we have ours."

"You mean, the poor lad will have to go through trials?" she said, so shocked by the notion that she forgot for a moment that she had sworn not to speak of the Cypress coronation trials.

"You might say that. Iom's ruler is required to pass a simple examination to show he is capable of the job, select a unique garment with colors reflecting his values, and memorize the basic laws of the nation. And of course, he must confirm his coronation with a human sacrifice to Iom."

Natasha's mouth fell open. In a voice stirred with outrage, she forced out, "What." Jengh looked at her in query. "Deanna is out there, risking his life, to find someone to... to commit a murder in Iom's name?"

"You should have read more of our law, Lady Natasha."

"I didn't expect..." She swallowed. _Don't lecture Jengh... that won't do any blasted good._ "The human sacrifice is just one of Warderer's laws, isn't it? We aren't going to continue with... with that..."

"The law has been in place from our nation's beginnings, Lady Natasha. You are a Cypressian; you cannot expect us to confirm to your morals and laws."

"And General Hindel was alright with this?"

"He did not oppose it."

The ludicrousness of her question struck her belatedly. "Right... By the time you met him, Warderer was already king. The law never went into action." Jengh nodded. "What if you found out that General Hindel hated this law?"

He sighed. "Even if Frecor and I agreed with you, the law could not be changed."

"But Edwin! He rules the nation!"

"Only temporarily. Edwin does not have the right to alter the founding laws of our nation."

"Then who does?"

"If all of Iom's ministers and officials approve, the king may change it. After he is crowned, of course."

Natasha groaned in frustration. _Did Deanna know about this? I know he'd hate this as much as I do, but what if... what if he kept it from me, so I wouldn't worry?_

"Lady Natasha, I'd advise you to wait until we actually have a king to crown before you concern yourself with insulting our god and defiling our culture."

Forgetting her resolve to not break into a lecture, she snapped to her feet, eyes blazing. "A god of death, enforcing a culture of death! Deanna and I fought Warderer to save lives, not murder! Why should we sacrifice more people to this god of yours, after he's already taken Hindel from us?"

"Iom means more to our people than you can know. Look."

Jengh pointed to a painting hanging on the wall of her room. She'd noticed it before, but never had much interest in it. It showed what looked like a giant angel with great feathery eagle's wings. Behind the colossal angel was a crowd of piteous people in shredded clothes, bearing children by the hand or in their arms, seemingly in flight, yet with expressions showing relieved gratitude. Before the angel was a horde of demonic creatures, falling and writhing before the green beams of light he cast from his hands. With a revelation that she felt should have struck her sooner, Natasha recognized a resemblance to the statue of Iom that she, Deanna, and their friends had destroyed more than half a year ago.

Jengh explained, "That painting commemorates Iom's saving of his people from the invading devil hordes centuries ago. Had he not extended his benevolence to us when we were helpless, the people of Iom would have been wiped out."

"I've seen Iom with my own eyes," Natasha said, more calmly now. "This painting is... is not at all what Iom looks like, or acts like."

"But to the people of this nation, it is. Take a walk around the palace. Everywhere you will find paintings of the many times Iom protected his people, never asking anything more than a little satiating of his hunger. You will not be able to convince people that these images are false."

Natasha was silent for a moment, and wearily lay back down on her bed. "We'll talk about this later. When are you leaving to capture Leifo?"

"As soon as I can muster the troops. Within two days, almost certainly." When she said nothing to that, he added, "By the way, you have a visitor, who claims to be a friend of yours. Given... the recent incident, we disarmed him, of course, and are keeping him restrained pending on your approval."

_Could be Hal or Shim... but why would he come armed?_ "What's he look like?"

"Male dwarf, well-built, with a large brown beard and thin hair on top. Very rounded head, and small hands. Rather wild-eyed, like an animal in a cage. Has a fairly loud voice, too."

She frowned. "Doesn't sound like anyone I know. You'd better send him away."

Jengh was just nodding when a loud ruckus sounded from the hallway.

"Let me through, you cowardly, conspiring, kidnappers of young women! How long did you think you could make me wait before I started to suspect?"

Natasha sat up with a delighted gasp of recognition. "Rohde!"

"I hear you, fearless leader! Hang on! Even without my axe, they can't keep me from you!"

Before her eyes, a ball of tussling bodies tumbled into the doorway, Rohde in the center. He was being borne down by a trio of lizardmen - one of them with his arms around Rohde's torso, one with his arms around his legs, and the third trying to jab the point of a sword through his skull - yet somehow they could not subdue him.

"Stop!" she cried. "Rohde is a friend!"

The lizardman with the sword turned to look at her, and Rohde slammed his jaw aside with a right hook, gave the one at his legs a kick in the face, and pushed the last one aside. Freed, he bounded over to Natasha. Crouching in defense, Jengh queried, "Are you sure this is a friend, Lady Natasha?"

"Yes. Rohde... this isn't what you think. They're just trying to protect me."

"From me? Why?"

"Not from you! They just didn't know who you are, and... What are you doing here, anyway?"

Rohde scratched at his beard. "Well..."

"Oh gosh, where are my manners?" She sighed. "I'm sorry. Jengh, could you let the two of us catch up?"

"Wait a second. They confiscated my axe; if we're all friends now, I'd like it back."

Natasha nodded. "Yes, of... course..."

"Something wrong?"

An axe. A massive, sharp instrument of death, and he was asking to have it near her baby. _No, no, that's a stupid thought... Rohde is my friend. To even think that he would hurt Carla..._

A deep, chilled shudder rent through her body, startling her. Clutching a hand to her heart, she felt her breath falling in heavy bursts. "No... No, I take it back. I'm sorry, Rohde... but can you do without your axe while you're here?"

"What? You won't let me have it back? Why?" Rohde's eerie stare, which she had always found unsettling, made her more resolved in her decision.

"Please, it just makes me nervous. You don't need it here, do you? We're friends." She hadn't meant to lie, but she did feel ashamed as soon as she said it. Her acquaintance with Rohde totaled barely a week, and in that brief time they'd barely said a word to each other. To call each other friends was more than stretching the truth... though for that one moment, she truly had felt fit to burst with gladness at seeing him again. She turned her pleading eyes from Rohde to Jengh. "You can hold onto his axe for him, can't you?"

Jengh nodded, and promptly cleared himself and his men out of the room. She and Rohde were left alone.

"You let that Jengh character have a weapon," Rohde muttered.

Natasha bowed her head. "I know, I know, it doesn't make sense. It's just that strange people have been attacking me and Deanna, and it makes me afraid, not so much for myself but for Deanna and..." She halted there, realizing for the first time that Rohde had not yet been told about Carla.

The dwarf smiled slightly. "Yes, I see you and Deanna already have a bun in the oven, eh?" She blushed and answered him with a happy nod. "Well, congratulations."

"Thank you. Her name's Carla." She paused. "So, what are you doing here...?"

"I've been hearing that you two were in these parts, doing good. I thought maybe you could use my help with all those people who might like to kill you. I've been busy, though, so it wasn't until now that I've had a chance to come drop in."

"I'm glad you did." Yet she couldn't help but wonder, just a bit, if what he said was true. _Stupid, stupid... he thought of you and Deanna, came here just to see you. How can you think of him like that? _"Deanna's left to... deal with some business, and I don't know when he'll be back. It's good to have an old friend here."

She reached her hand out to him. Rohde stared at it for a moment in perplexity, then slowly took it in his own.

----------------------

Pasha drifted in and out of awareness. It had been days since she was last allowed a proper rest. Or at least, it felt that long - she hadn't seen the sun since she'd been brought to the shrine. For the most part she was kept shackled to that same wooden board, the circulation in her wrists and ankles almost constantly being cut off from hanging there. Her stomach roared from wretched hunger, and her throat remained parched. All over, her body ached and stung with her bruises and cuts. She was incredibly tired, worn out, and could wish for nothing but that death would finally come. They weren't letting her go, so there was nothing to look forward to with each day and hour but more torture and suffering. She was simply tired of it... it was all the same. And at least, only her mother was likely to mourn her.

The door creaked open, and she did not raise her head; it could only be Brutus again. It was always Brutus. But then a voice touched by astonishment said, "By Iom, Pasha... what has he been doing to you?"

Recognition made her look up. Indeed, it was high priest Leifo... with a little boy at his side, oddly enough. Pasha felt embarrassed as the boy stared at her bleeding wounds. To Leifo she had nothing to say. He might offer some temporary comforts of food, water, herbs, and sympathy, but he wasn't going to set her free.

"I'll have to give Brutus another good lecture. But that can wait." Leifo pushed the little boy slightly ahead of him. "I came down here to introduce you to your cousin, Amelo. Amelo, this is your cousin Pasha."

Hope flared in her chest, its resurgence after so long a time of despair feeling actually painful. _I want to live. I want to go home. Please, lord Iom..._

She had to swallow to give her throat the moisture needed to speak. "You've... found him, then... Let me go..."

Leifo's face fell. "If only it were that simple. I'm sorry, Pasha, but we can't let you go. By not revealing your cousin's location, you defied Iom."

"But I didn't know where he was!" she cried in desperation, and immediately fell into a fit of coughing.

"I dare say I'm beginning to believe you about that, Pasha." He sighed. "Unfortunately, it's no better for you if you have been telling the truth. To my great regret, you have been treated ill here, and if your captivity is indeed unjust, you must hold a grudge for that. If you spoke to those rebels in the capital, they could put an end to this shrine, and to myself of course. A great blow like that against lord Iom cannot be allowed to happen. I am dearly sorry, my lady." He looked away, as though unable to bear the sight of her suffering any longer. "I shall have Brutus put you out of your misery swiftly and painlessly, by whatever method you choose. It's the best favor I can do for you... I dearly wish there were more."

She coughed again. "...please..."

"Well, there is one other thing. It will require some discrete arrangements, but if you wish, I can have you sacrificed to Iom." He rubbed one hand over the other. "It can even be made _your_ sacrifice. The favor won with Iom would fall to you."

_I don't want to die. There are things I so want to do..._

_...but it's too late. And if I'm to die... I..._ Amelo was staring at her, eyes wide and confused. She wondered why Leifo had brought him here, had shown her to him. It was pointless for her to see him, and traumatizing for him to see her, so why... he was Iom's next king, but that didn't matter to her. She was at the end of her time. _If I'm to die..._

"Yes," she forced out of her weak lips. "I wish to give myself to Iom, to soothe his eternal hunger."


	20. Chapter 20: New Alliances

- Chapter 20: New Alliances -

As the meeting got underway, Varmo searched for Halron and, finding him reclining on a small rock, took a seat beside him.

Halron looked over at him. "So, what do you think?"

"I think we had better start sleeping with our eyes open, as it were. At the least, we should make sure at least one of us is awake whenever Binuto is assigned a watch."

Halron looked away, thoughtful, as he nodded. "I wonder, though. Now that I think of it, this is the first time Binuto's ever done something like this. He's an odorous vermin, but he's always kept it within the law of Cypress, always played by the rules. Coming here... Castle Cypress can't spare any guards, and he knows that. Why would he go against the good of Cypress like that?"

The question amused Varmo. "Is not revenge worth any price?"

"Yes, but why pay the price if there is no need? That's the thing. In his shoes, I'd wait until my prey returned to Castle Cypress so that I could get my revenge without betraying my nation. And if my prey perished in Emild, I'd be satisfied with that. Why would he defy General Mayfair and risk his life by pursuing me? It's as if..."

He did not finish. "Yes?" Varmo prodded.

"Forget about it. It was a foolish thought; I'd even call it complete nonsense."

"Well, there is no harm in saying it, is there? At the least, it might trigger a theory that isn't nonsense."

"Alright." Halron sighed, gazing into the distance. "It's as if... as if he somehow _knows_ that something will happen to me on this mission, making this his last chance to exact his 'revenge'." There was a silence. "Thoughts?"

"Yes. I think we have to conclude that Binuto has some interest in this mission other than you. Most likely, he's over eager to go onto the field of battle." He felt a bit uneasy about snatching the focus of the problem away from Halron; his friend had just enough of an ego that it might hurt his pride. To soften the blow, he added, "But of course, his position does leave us... leave us..." He scrunched up his brow. "...leave us vulnerable. I think our best course of action is to seek allies among our comrades."

Halron raised an eyebrow. "Already found an excuse for becoming a leader again, haven't you?"

He struggled for a moment to produce some disproof, then simply huffed and looked away. "If you have a better suggestion, I should be glad to consider it. Perhaps we should murder him while he sleeps?"

"I was just pointing it out. There's no need to get offended."

Feeling a trifle embarrassed at that, Varmo resumed, "Well, I should talk to Dawn. She's a stickler for rules, so it's a sure bet she isn't pleased with Binuto. It shouldn't be hard to convince her that your story is true. After that, recruiting Jaha should be... be..."

"Like outracing an ooze?"

He sighed. "I was looking for something more eloquent."

"Don't overwork yourself."

He nodded._ Once we get the others behind us, we just need to wait for Binuto to tip his hand, or simply find something to frame him for. Under these circumstances, it shouldn't be hard to make Binuto look guilty, even if he doesn't do that himself. He doesn't have any friends, after all._

_Right now, I can't be a leader, not in war. But this mission is an opportunity to build my popularity, and as that goes, it's working very well._

----------------------

Theo listened, with the half-interest of one who doesn't completely understand everything being said, to Lady Sarah and Dane formulating a plan across a wooden table the raiders had furnished. Or trying to; Dane kept offering plans involving using the Cypress soldiers as bait, and the Lady Sarah countered that they could not trust Dane's band to follow their part in such a plan.

He wished he could go and try talking to the others. What Binuto was doing in Emild was a mystery, but Theo had a bad feeling about it. He had never given much thought to the suspicions Dave had voiced after his duel with Halron, but they suddenly seemed very important. Dave had told him that Binuto taunted Halron just before their duel, and concluded that he had been trying to get Halron riled up for blood.

If Binuto would go that far just to shame Halron... then it wasn't at all a stretch to suppose that he had come to Emild just to settle his score with him once and for all.

Bringing his suspicions to Lady Sarah probably wouldn't do much good, and bringing them to Halron could only cause trouble. But Varmo and Halron seemed pretty chummy again, and though there weren't many compliments he could throw Varmo's way, he did at least have a solid head on his shoulders. He might be able to give a good guess as to what Binuto was up to. Though Dawn might be a safer person to ask, she wasn't likely to have any insight on Binuto's motives.

But of course, Lady Sarah had stuck him and Dawn with guarding her during her negotiations with the raiders, so all that would have to wait.

"What you're consistently missing," Lady Sarah said patiently, "...is that our second greatest advantage is that your band knows this area."

"Second greatest?"

"The first is that we have minds experienced in the strategies of war." It was clear by her tone that "we" did not include the raiders.

"So what's your suggestion, little lady?" Dane leaned over the table, and Theo reasserted his grip on his staff. The man had been ready to kill them all just hours ago, making it hard to not feel extremely nervous around him. He glanced to Dawn for reassurance; she was unfazed by the most threatening of movements from any of the raiders. It seemed an absurd mismatch, really, for him to stand alongside a warrior of such ability. It made him begin to wonder why he'd been selected for the mission at all.

Lady Sarah nodded her head in acknowledgment of Dane's question. "That depends on what you would consider the best place to meet the Blue Dragons in battle. This is your land, not ours. It should be a fairly open area, so that we can hit a good deal of them at a time with spells. And of course, if we can lay traps there, it would be better for us."

"Huh. Seems we'd have more advantage if we got them in a narrow space. Call me if I'm wrong, but between our two groups, we've only got two decent wizards."

"True, but there is another advantage won from being in an open area. More importantly, they'll be expecting us to try to trap them in a narrow space. If we take the fight there, they'll know we're luring them. That should be avoided if possible."

Dane coolly laid his palms on the table. "Uh huh. And that other advantage?"

Lady Sarah, impressively enough to Theo, retained her firm stance with staff in hand, jaw firmly set. "Tell us where we are to engage the enemy, and we'll tell you the rest of our plan for engagement."

"Haw! If we were settin' up to betray you, what good would it do you to know where we plan to ambush the Dragons?"

"It is not good diplomacy for one side to know everything and the other to know nothing," she said with such deliberateness than Dane sat back. "Not even for a brief moment."

Dane pulled at the tips of his mustache, and for the moment, Theo did not feel so nervous about him. "Ho. That's some right blue blood you got there, little lady. But fair enough; it's no difference to me what you know." He pulled a small map from his pocket and began drawing his finger along various parts, but Theo couldn't make any of it out from where he stood. "A ways from here is a huge clearing, all grassy and flowery and what have you. A brook runs through it; it's one of the main places we get our water from. You can wade through it, though, or even jump across with ease. Shouldn't affect your plan then, should it?"

"How large of an open space is there not divided by the brook?"

"At least a half minute's run in any direction."

She nodded. "Good enough. Kindly give me the map, and I'll show you our plan."

----------------------

"Hey," Lana greeted Binuto, running the fingers of one hand through her hair.

He said nothing in reply, just sat there on the cold rock, arms resting on his bent knees, staring at the ground with fierce intent.

She gave a quick glance around, but Varmo and Halron were talking to each other, and Jaha seemed mainly interested in studying the raiders. Satisfied, she took a deep breath and seated herself next to Binuto. "None of the others seem to want to talk to you, so -"

"The Lady Sarah has been busy drawing out plans with the raiders," Binuto pointed out coldly. "And Dawn and Theo are guarding her. All three of them will certainly want to have a word with me when they're done." He drew a dagger from his belt. Lana let out a breath of relief when he turned it to picking at his fingernails. "Come to think of it, that may be why she chose the two of them to guard her. Wouldn't want me chatting with them before she's had a chance to interrogate me herself."

"Uh... right. Well, I just wanted to say that I know they all don't like you much just because you're not all friendly all the time, but what you did... coming here to save us, I mean... it was really brave."

"No, it wasn't," he said. "To be brave, you have to be afraid first. I'm not afraid of anything."

"I guess that's true." She leaned towards him. "But... I wasn't really talking about courage. The most important thing isn't that you took a risk... it's that you did it to help us."

His response was as vibrant as a statue's. Lana briefly licked her lips, uncertain how to proceed. _There has to be _something_ which will make him want to get friendly with me, _she reasoned._ No one really likes to be alone._ But then he suddenly turned to her for the first time since she'd begun talking to him, and smiled. It was a very natural smile, to her surprise.

"I suppose I did, didn't it?" he said. "But it was my duty."

She smiled back, her eyes looking into his. His eyes looked distant, as though lost, but also plainly interested. She inevitably earned that response from males. "Not everyone wants to do their duty. Besides, it was more than that. Your duty was just to stay and guard Castle Cypress, right?"

Binuto reached out a hand and lightly brushed a lock of her hair. The touch, rather intimate given that this was the first time they'd even said a word to each other, made her heart pound with a sense of danger. She liked the feeling. "But if I had, you wouldn't be here, would you?"

Her cheeks colored slightly. "No, I wouldn't. We wouldn't be here, in this moment." The notion of touching him in turn flew into her head, and she felt adventurous enough to accept. She laid her hand on his knee. "And that wouldn't be a good thing."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"Thank _me?_"

"For showing me that. And for not assuming that just because I can't... can't find it in me to care about chatting and gossip, that I don't have feelings."

It might have been a delayed reaction, but when he said those words, a pulse of real fear began beating in her heart. She didn't know what she was afraid of, but she suddenly felt that it was very wrong to be sitting this close to him. The fear was nothing she couldn't brave out, but she made a habit of trusting her instincts.

"Y...you're welcome." She got up. "I'll see you later, okay?"

He nodded, and if he noticed that she was in a hurry to get away, his face showed no sign of it.

----------------------

"Varmo, you're not telling me anything I don't already know," Dawn said, folding her arms. She knew she shouldn't be so defensive, but she couldn't help it. Varmo's self-important manner irritated her, even though it wasn't characteristic of him from what she'd seen.

"Wait a second - I didn't know that!" Jaha broke in. "How did _you_ know, anyway?"

"I had guard duty when Halron was in prison. Binuto came by and was taunting him, by the looks of it."

Varmo fidgeted. "We're both afraid... honestly afraid... that it goes beyond mere taunting."

That suggestion struck a thought in Dawn's head, though it took her a moment to grasp it. "Are you saying... that Binuto set the two of you up? That he was responsible for making you look guilty of whatever it was that you were locked up for?"

"Hmm? ...Oh! Yes, that's... quite possible." He gave an apologetic shrug of the shoulders, as though shrugging off culpability for any errors or falsehoods in his statements. "We can't be sure of it, of course. But we do have reason to believe that Binuto has come here chiefly to put some sort of... final resolution to his conflict with Halron. I don't think it wise to take chances on our suspicions being wrong."

"I don't, either." She hated agreeing with him so easily, but she couldn't find any reason to disagree. "But what do we do about it, then?"

"How 'bout one of you translates all that into plain talk, for starters?" Jaha snapped.

Dawn let out a sigh. "Varmo thinks Binuto might be out to get Halron. Sort of a revenge for Halron's uncle killing his father."

"Huh. Well, great. I sure love having to worry about people in our own army."

"There is a good chance that Lady Sarah will simply send Binuto back to Castle Cypress," Varmo offered. "If all of us deny knowing him, she can't possibly trust his offer to help us. Only..."

"Only what?" Dawn prodded.

"If that works, Binuto may simply go back to stalking us. With him among our group, we can at least keep an eye on him until we find a way to expose him."

It was a thought that Dawn had to admit would never have occurred to her. _For all the modesty he put out the last time we talked, Varmo does know something about leading._ "So... is that it, then? The four of us just keep an eye on him, waiting until he makes his move?"

"Yes, and we'll have to set up our own schedule of watches, in secret. At least one of us should always be awake and on guard. Two of us, whenever Binuto is assigned a watch."

"Sounds good. Shouldn't we bring Theo and Lana in on this, though?"

"I wouldn't trust Lana," Jaha put in. "I spotted her talking with Binuto just now."

"Still," Varmo mused. "I don't see any reason why not to share this with Theo. He does have a habit of defending people, after all." He paused. "Would you have a talk with him, Dawn?"

"Me? I..." The thought invaded her mind, _Natasha wouldn't even blink at such a task._ She briefly squeezed her eyes shut to force it out. "I'm not very good with people. There's a chance I might just scare Theo off."

"'Not very good with people'?" Jaha echoed. "What are you talking about? You've got more friends than -"

"I mean at convincing them," she sighed. "Varmo, couldn't you talk with him?"

"He... He wouldn't trust me enough to believe me." Varmo glanced at Jaha.

"Hey, bud, don't even think about asking me. Theo just looks for a reason to make himself scarce every time I talk to 'im."

"Perhaps if you weren't always ridiculing him for no good reason?" Dawn said sharply.

"Look, we can stand here criticizing each other, or we can -"

"Enough," Varmo cut in. The two of them started at the pretense of authority in his voice. "Dawn, it's up to you to explain things to Theo. Otherwise, we can very well do without him."

She opened her mouth to demand to know who had put him in charge, but with a valiant effort she snapped it shut again. _That's not a valid objection; you're just trying to defend your foolish pride,_ she reprimanded herself. _You don't know how to deal with these sorts of situations. Varmo does. He's not the best person to have in charge, but he's all we've got. It's... it's not as though he's usurping Natasha's place._

She cleared her throat. "Alright. I'll try having a word with him."

----------------------

"You are guilty of desertion," the Lady Sarah said darkly.

"I suppose that's true," Binuto said, shifting his weight from one side of his body to the other. "But does it make sense to send me back to Castle Cypress? Even if you deny that you need me with you, that's a dangerous a trip to make all by myself. And why should I make it? I'm already guilty of desertion, and I have no less reason to want to join this mission than I did when I first left Castle Cypress. Turn me away, and I'll just continue to follow at your heels."

"That would add insubordination to your crimes."

Binuto shrugged. "So why let it come to that? Let me tag along, and I promise to follow your every order without question. Anyone can vouch for my spotless record at Castle Cypress."

Claude watched her, seemingly waiting for the explosion. Sarah had better nerves than that, however, and coolly reminded herself that many irritations can be turned into assets. "You may come with us, then," she said evenly. "But though your name has already been dishonored by your actions, I will see to it that you are marked as a traitor if you do fail to follow my every order without question."

"That's something neither of us have to worry about," Binuto smiled.


	21. Chapter 21: The Settling of a Dispute

- Chapter 21: The Settling of a Dispute -

The red cloak wasn't entirely appropriate for a Blue Dragon, she supposed, but she liked the look of it. It gave her a menacing aura, and the blue scarf around her forehead still identified her band. She was glad they'd taken the time to raid a village along the way to the borderlands; the cloak was certainly a pleasing acquisition, though not as important as the spell book they'd picked up.

One of her men pushed his way between the flaps of her tent, and opened his mouth to say something. She promptly cut him off, "From now on, I should like to be known as the Crimson Scourge."

The man paused. "...Whatever you say. I was just coming to let you know we're all ready to move out."

"Is there something _wrong_ with the title Crimson Scourge?"

"No..."

"If you find it too awkward, when addressing me you may use 'Scourge' for short."

"I'm sure everyone will appreciate that." He fidgeted. "Are you going to come direct the hunt?"

"Fool!" She struck him across the face with the back of her hand. The spiny gloves she wore tore open his cheek. "You think I do not know my tasks?"

Her fellow bandit cursed, clutching a hand ruefully at his torn face. Mumbling an apology, he stumbled out of the tent with clear eagerness to escape.

The newly dubbed Crimson Scourge smiled. The more mentally unstable that she convinced them all she was, the more they would fear her. The more they feared her, the fewer challenges to her leadership there would be. Perhaps, if she kept this up, she might even rise to become leader of the entire Blue Dragon clan. But that was for another day.

Today was the day to take the heads of those fools from Cypress.

----------------------

Despite the rusty helm the bandits had loaned him, Jaha's head felt rather bare without his pot. It was necessary to leave it behind, though, because as Lady Sarah had pointed out, there'd be no mistaking him for a Blue Dragon with that unique piece of headgear on. And even with that bit of discomfort, Jaha was exhilarated about how things were turning out. The adventure had picked up a notch, and grown in scale.

He wormed his body forward slightly, the grasses tickling at his nose, and then resumed his stock-still posture. He did wish that Dawn were with him, but the centaurs(Dawn of course, and Grawler from the raiders) were of course incapable of hiding amongst the tall grasses, and so had to stay out of the field, out of sight of the raiders.

_Hope we're lucky enough to meet up on the battlefield. Always good to fight with Dawn. Come to think of it, it'd be nice to have Grawler here, too. He seemed like a good guy when I talked to him before. He's a bandit, 'course, but hey... Deanna was an Iom soldier, and Graham was a traitor._

He glanced over at Theo. "Hey," he whispered. "What's the signal, again?"

Theo was silent.

"Pssst! I said, what's the signal?"

Theo sighed. "When Dane shouts out, 'Now.'"

Jaha smirked to himself. That was the third time he'd made Theo answer that question. _Okay, so it's a dumb joke, but that face of his is too darn funny when he gets upset. I just hope he doesn't take a little joshing too seriously._

_'Course, he could be worried about having Binuto on his other side, too. Dawn didn't have much trouble convincing him that the guy might be up to no good. Probably figures that when the lot of us were divided into groups of three, getting stuck with Binuto was just his luck. Bet he'd much rather be making eyes at Lana right now. I wonder if our raiders had to worry about which of their buddies they get roped into a trio with?_

Before he could follow that thought any further, he heard Dane bellow out the signal. Without hesitation, he seized his axe and leapt up to attack.

----------------------

"An ambush?" the Crimson Scourge said to herself. "Are they mad?"

She hadn't expected an attack, but she realized immediately that the dozen or so troops leaping at her men from all directions had to be a local band of raiders. All she knew about those who held sway in this region was what their employer had told her, but that was enough to conclude that an attack like this was suicide. The locals didn't have nearly the numbers necessary to overcome a whole contingent of Blue Dragons. Even if they suspected that the Blue Dragons intended to annihilate them(a thought she _had_ been considering, at least to simplify their search for the Cypressians), by far their best chance would be playing a defensive game. What could they hope to -

She stopped, squinted at the enemy as they met the outer ranks of her band. Around their foreheads, it almost looked like... blue scarves.

The Crimson Scourge swallowed. It _could_ be coincidence, but they hadn't bothered with the bodies left by their initial, failed assault on the Cypress mission. Logic followed that the attackers were wearing the official scarves of the Blue Dragons, taken from the fallen. And unlike their assailants, the Blue Dragons were too great in number to recognize all their comrades. Though she'd never realized it before, her men relied on the blue scarves to differentiate fellow Blue Dragons from other bandits. Now there was no way to tell friend from foe.

For the first time in her career as commander, an enemy had come at her in a way she wasn't prepared for.

----------------------

A seeming wave of bandits cut Varmo off from Halron and Lana, leaving him suddenly on his own. He had no time to adjust to this situation before one of the Blue Dragons grabbed hold of his staff, drawing a yelp of fright from him, and raised his sword to lay down a lethal blow.

Then the Dragon hesitated, looking over Varmo's face with uncertainty. The kyantol seized the moment, smashing the head of his staff into his opponent's face, knocking him onto the ground, where he was quickly trampled.

Varmo breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't thought Lady Sarah's plan would work for him; kyantols were rational and peaceful by nature, so one would hardly expect to find one who was a marauding bandit. Yet apparently there were a few among the Blue Dragons, or else his foe would not have been unsure of him. He was thankful as well that the enemy could not use arrows in these close quarters, as they had in their first battle. That made up, somewhat, for the fact that he'd lost sight of both Sergeant Dawn and Grawler. Lady Sarah had suggested he catch a ride on Dawn for a better vantage point for casting spells. The raider's mage, Jace, was getting his lift from Claude, since the birdman could just drop him to his death if he started casting spells at Cypressians.

Luckily, he'd spent some time before the battle studying Spark level 2. He hadn't been able to progress much farther in his understanding of the spell, of course, but it might be enough to pull off a decent casting of it at last. It was the only way of escaping from the rabble swarming around him.

Mustering some degree of calm in the midst of all the danger whirling about him, he raised a hand and cried out the name of the spell. A broad smile of exultation spread over his face as beams of electricity rained down all around him, striking every Blue Dragon in sight. Their cries of pain were louder than the thunder. Most did not fall, but those who did not fall scattered away.

_Gods, I can defend myself. I can._ He spotted a centaur passing by and ran to him, calling, "Give me a lift!"

"What do you think I am, an ass?" the Blue Dragon snapped.

"Swallow your pride for just a minute! My eyes are sharp; with a little more height I can figure out which ones are the attackers!"

It was a lie he'd made up on the spot, but it worked well enough. After a moment's wince, the centaur crotched down slightly to allow Varmo to mount. As he got on, however, a noise made him freeze. It was something he had _been_ hearing for some moments, he realized, but it only caught his attention when a lull fell in the cries of the bandits he'd felled. It was the cries of a woman in pain, and the voice was familiar...

"Dammit! Can't move!" He looked across the field and saw her, half lying on the ground, legs utterly limp. Lana.

_Gods. She was in range of my spell. I didn't realize..._

"Hu... hu... help... Oh, cursed mo-!" She broke into a stream of curses, capped by a howl of pain. Varmo winced. No one knew why they happened, but he had heard of extreme reactions to Spark spells such as this.

It was a relief to see Halron kneel down beside the girl and scoop her up. With the change in position, however, Lana chanced to turn her face towards Varmo, and realization broke into her eyes. "Varmo! You-"

He pulled himself the rest of the way up onto the backside of the centaur. "Sorry," he said in his mildest tone to his duped foe. "Had a sudden cramp in my leg."

"Whatever. Just tell me where the little maggots are, alright?"

"Right. Head towards that hill." As the centaur complied, Varmo waved a hand over him and whispered, "Muddle." If the spell worked, it would help keep the centaur from getting suspicious.

Not that he had any real confidence that it would. He clenched his eyes, still seeing Lana's angry face. _I fouled things up. On the battlefield, I always do._

----------------------

"Varmo!" Dawn hollered, though she didn't know why she bothered. Even if her voice reached him, she could never hope to hear his reply over the din all about and the pounding inside her own head.

_I hate this. This is why I was against this plan, and would have said so if I could think of a better one: We have to be separated. If we were all together, sooner or later the Blue Dragons would pin us down as their antagonists. But we... Jaha and I... have never fought like this before. It's always been at least four of us together, working as a team. Natasha always said, when we work together we can do anything. Natasha..._

She shut her eyes against the thought of their old leader, focusing on the present. The enemy, coming from every side, but falling one-by-one beneath the thrusts of her powerful spear and lance. She counted each fatal stroke, each victory, to compare later with Jaha, though she could still hear Natasha reproaching her for enjoying the thrill of battle and the glory of striking down those who prey upon the innocent and helpless. "They deserve death, Natasha," she whispered, putting her lance through the chests of two goblins in one thrust. "Even more than the Iom worshipers did. And we don't have any choice... we have to get through to the capital."

Talking back to someone who wasn't there was lunacy, she knew, but she was doing it only to silence those thoughts. _What is it about Natasha that none of us can forget her, even when she's never around? And why do thoughts of her trouble me so much now, on this mission?_

_Because she always knew what to do in battle, and I don't. She'd know what to do now, how to... How to fight her way out of a swarm of soldiers by herself? What am I saying? Natasha was simply a good leader, and..._

_...and she'd have thought of a better plan than Lady Sarah's to begin with,_ she realized abruptly. _She'd have found a way to keep us all together, and Lady Sarah would have gone with that. She wouldn't have me out here by myself, unable to help the others if they get in trouble, without Jaha here to make sure no dwarf slinks up and makes a cripple out of me._

_Damnit! The others are depending on me; I've got to pull us all together... but damn it, where are they?_

----------------------

"Come on, Binuto... stick with us!" Jaha hopped over the bloody battlefield, Theo following him.

The dwarf was frankly liking the battle less and less. He preferred his enemies to put up something of a fight, and thanks to the blue scarves he and his buddies were wearing, many of the Blue Dragons mistook them for allies. It didn't sit well with his conscience to chop down a man who thought him a friend.

Binuto, on the contrary, was like a wild dog set free after weeks chained to a post. The pleasure he saw in the human's eyes as he cut through foe after foe disturbed Jaha. It was empty and mechanical. Binuto was pleased to be battling for Cypress, but there was none of either the pride and happiness he always saw in Dawn's eyes nor the remorse he remembered seeing in Deanna's.

_Heh. Well, that's a real insightful thought, for a guy like me. Hope it doesn't mean I'm getting old._

"We can't keep going like this," Theo said, his voice sounding more than anxious. "We have to find their leader."

"Heard you the first time, bud. Didja notice you can see a lot farther than I can?" Theo said nothing to that, so Jaha tried calling, "Hey! Binuto! You spot any sort of leader we can home in on and end this?"

Binuto struck down another foe, leaving him temporarily clear. He looked about himself for a couple moments, as though confused. Then he pointed to a figure Jaha could barely make out in all the confusion: a woman in a red cloak. "She seems to be trying to direct things."

"Well, come on then! Let's get her!"

The three of them grouped together, feigning something of a casual manner as they approached the woman, so as not to attract attention. Or at least, that's why Jaha did it. He presumed the same of Theo, but Binuto was likely wrapped up in his usual nonchalance. _Snob-nosed jerk. I hope we really do catch him trying to do Halron in._

The woman had her right shoulder to them, throwing angry orders to her men. But as they came near, she turned, and understanding instantly burned in her eyes. "You must be the upstart local raiders," she said.

"No," Binuto said. "We're proud to call ourselves Cypressians."

"Now!" Jaha cried, and together they launched at the woman. He planned to bring her down quick - either kill her, or take her hostage.

"I am the Crimson Scourge." She raised a hand. "Blaze!"

"Sweet Cypress!" Jaha gasped. It was a level 3 spell, and it hit Binuto directly, though at an odd curve that suggested the caster wasn't very experienced. The sunburst of the spell burned against Jaha, but at least he had a good deal of armor to protect him. Guarding his legs with his shield and his face with the blade of his axe, he wondered how Binuto had fared.

He heard Theo calling, "Claude! We need Lana over here! Please!"

----------------------

"Are you sure there weren't any of our guys in that bunch you just toasted?" Varmo's ride asked in a dubious tone.

"Of course. D-didn't you see how they were trying to spread chaos?" Varmo answered, struggling to keep the shakiness out of his voice. As if the fear that the bandit would get suspicious wasn't enough, reverting to his old, informal manner of speaking was proving more difficult than he'd anticipated.

"Yeah... now that you say it, I think you're right..."

"Th-that's right. Head that way... I th-think we've almost g-got them all..." It seemed a good time to say that, since he could feel his magical energies running dangerously low.

"Hey, what's up with you?" He turned to look at Varmo, a deep frown crossing his already unpleasant features. "You don't sound much like a bandit - must be a greenhorn, if you are. Wh-"

"Hey - kyantol!" They both turned to see another centaur running up alongside them, a crossbow pointed in their direction. "Jump on!"

For a moment Varmo wondered why in the world he should do such a thing. Then he recognized Grawler, from their raider allies. Taking a deep swallow, he pulled himself up on the backside of his ride. "Hey! You're -" the centaur began to say, and Varmo realized he had to move. Panic gave courage to his legs, and he made a reckless leap towards Grawler. The instant he did, Grawler fired an arrow into the other centaur's neck.

Varmo proved to be not very aerodynamic, and he landed more on Grawler's side than on his back, arms and legs clutching awkwardly at equine flank. To make things worse, the centaur started violently bucking, crying out, "Aagh! What are you doing? Don't touch me there, it - Aaaa! Bloody get on my back, will you!?"

But with Grawler's involuntary convulsions, that was quite out of the question. Varmo closed his eyes and clung on for dear life.

----------------------

"Thanks," Lana gasped out, curling her torso up in Halron's arms. "Can you... help me reach my legs? Please?"

Halron complied, bending her body at the hip so that the dead weight of her legs came within reach of her hands. He kept an eye out for attackers, but the raiders around them seemed to mistake them for friends, or at least recognized that they were not an immediate threat.

As Lana laid her hands over her legs, she again said, "Thanks."

"No problem."

"I can heal myself - I know I can." She closed her eyes. "It's just that the pain makes it so hard to move..."

"I understand."

"Why the blazes did that bastard do that, huh?"

"Well... he tends to be quite careless. Especially when he's riding the euphoric wave of some accomplishment."

There was a pause. Halron could feel Lana's legs begin to stir; presumably her healing was working. "I'm sorry," she said at last. "I didn't mean to start bashing your friend while you're..."

"It's alright," he shrugged. "Varmo isn't as clever as he thinks he is."

He didn't mean that in a disparaging way, but a moment later he nonetheless felt quite guilty. _At least Varmo's never been guilty of anything worse than carelessness and lies. What I did..._

_...And what was I so angry at them all for? Lana used to turn her nose up at me like all the others, but look at her now. She changed her attitude so easily. She's fought with me, and now she's already forgotten everything my uncle Dantom did. If all of them - no, if even half of them would have changed their minds so easily, then my anger's been misplaced._

_For all the good knowing that will do me, if I don't find that redemption Mayfair talked to me about. I saved Lana, but... but did I do it only because of Binuto? He's lurking about somewhere on the battlefield. If he should try something, or accuse me of some treachery, Lana's the only one who could tell the others the truth. She's my only weapon against Binuto. Is that why I saved her?_

It didn't feel like that was the only reason, but he couldn't say for sure.

"Halron!" he heard a voice call. Before he could identify it, Claude swooped down for a landing, setting the raider's mage beside him. "Ah, I thought you had Lana with you. She's needed elsewhere. Watch over Jace, will you?"

"I... as you command." He moved to hand the healer over.

"It's okay, Halron," she said, reaching her legs toward the ground. "I think I can stand now." She stepped toward Claude, who picked her up in both arms and flew off.

Halron watched them go briefly, then looked at Jace. Binuto might have had qualms about killing Lana just to get at him, but he certainly wouldn't have qualms about killing a bandit. It would be nice to think that he'd just sacrificed his own safety so that Lana could help one of his teammates, but the truth was, he simply hadn't had time to think about it. His redemption still wasn't there.

----------------------

"Some brave raider you are!" Jaha tried, the best taunt he could think up at the moment. "Hiding behind yer magic?"

"When I found that little book, I couldn't resist learning a few spells," the Crimson Scourge replied, firing a level 1 Blaze spell at him. "Besides, aren't you ganging up on a lone woman?"

Jaha held his shield steady before him, though the heat scorched his forearm. After a few seconds of this discomfort, he heard a loud cracking, and peeked over his shield to see that Theo had indeed taken advantage of his distraction to attack the woman from behind. The human was rewarded with a knife in the back, thrown by a nearby Blue Dragon. Issuing a curse, Jaha bounded forward, knowing he couldn't reach him in time.

Luckily, there was no need, as Claude swooped down from above. For ease of carrying passengers, the birdman was wearing minimal armor, but the sword he bore was enough to cut down Theo's attacker with a single stroke. In the same motion, he set Lana down so that she was facing Binuto. However, she immediately turned and reached for Theo.

"I'm fine!" Theo gasped, somehow putting forth the strength to remain on his hands and knees. "Help Bin...uto!"

The Crimson Scourge began getting to her feet. "Not -"

A spear lodged into her leg, and Dawn galloped forward to press the point of her lance against the Crimson Scourge's breast. "I could have put that right through your heart, if I'd wanted."

Clenching her teeth, the bandit returned, "Does it matter?"

"If you order your men to surrender now, yes."

----------------------

"So!" Dane strolled before the Crimson Scourge and a dozen or so of her fellow Blue Dragons, all of them securely bound. "I suppose you think you've learned your lesson, sirs high-and-mighty elite class band. You lost a lot of men, both to our forces and to the suspicion we spread among you. A good number of you petitioned to join our band, and those who we determined worthy enough have been added to our ranks. All told, you have barely half the men you started the battle with.

"Think that's enough?" He allowed a pause, to let his captives sweat a little in anticipation of the answer to his rhetorical question. "Haw! You came here, invading our turf, disrupting our peace, chasing refugees into our terrain, and now I've lost a few good men fighting off your aggression. I think a little recompense is in order."

"If you kill me," the Crimson Scourge spoke up at last, "our main group will hunt you all down and exterminate you."

"Haw! How're they gonna figure out who's responsible? They gonna march out here to sniff out what's happened to their buddies? I'll take my chances on that, little lady." He snorted. "Or I _would_, if that was what I'd had in mind."

"May I remind you that we are partners in these dealings?" the Lady Sarah put in.

"That's true," Dane returned. "But you're an outsider, both to our trade and our country. We take care of our own." Speaking to the "scourge" again, he said, "Trouble is, bandits aren't exactly trustworthy to begin with, and you broke territorial rule. We can't take any promises from you."

The Crimson Scourge gave a proud toss of her head. "If you release my second-in-command with enough men and supplies to make it back to our home territory, he can set up negotiations with the other bands in this region to secure a considerable expansion of your territory. You may hold myself and the rest of my men hostage against the satisfactory completion of this deal."

He nodded. "Generous enough. It's a deal."

Lady Sarah gawked at him. "You're setting them free?"

"Hey, they cut a deal with us. Think I'm gonna pass up some good turf just so you foreigners can settle your dispute with 'em?" He snorted. "Besides, they surrendered. Wouldn't be right to kill 'em after that."

"And if the Blue Dragons you release to set up these negotiations return to attacking myself and my men?" she demanded.

"Relax. We'll give you two days grace before cutting 'em loose. If you're heading to the capital, like you said you were, they'll never catch up to you in time."

For a moment, the noblewoman still looked angry. But there came a subtle change over her eyes; they were still piercing and shrewd, but reasonable. "Very well. The safety of myself, my assistants, and the youths guarding me is all I desired; you have helped me obtain that. Thank you."

She bowed her head and returned to her group.


	22. Chapter 22: On the Importance of Progeny

- Chapter 22: On the Importance of Progeny -

"Thank you," King Nicholas said to the servant once they reached the royal bedroom. "That will be all."

"We need to clean the bedroom at some point, Your Majesty..."

"It can wait one day, can it not?" It shouldn't have taken such an effort to keep the impatience out of his voice, but he was worried. The servants naturally assumed that it was Mayfair who had locked the royal bedroom and was not answering their knocking, which was not entirely impossible, but Nick suspected something far more sinister. This might be Castle Cypress's traitor at last making his move.

The servant bowed and left. Nick took out the key to the bedroom, a key whose only twin was in his queen's hands, and stuck it into the lock. But before he could turn it, Gyan laid a hand on his shoulder. "I should go first, Nick."

He nodded, but did not immediately let go of the key. "Don't do anything rash. If they have Mayfair..."

"Gotcha."

Nick stepped aside, and Gyan almost silently unlocked the door and turned the knob. After a pause, he kicked the door open and leapt inside, poised for action.

For a moment he was perfectly stiff. Then he turned around. "False alarm, Nick. I'll leave you two alone."

Frowning, Nick entered the bedroom. All was as it always was, save for Mayfair, sitting stiffly on the end of the bed with her hands in her lap, eyes focused on the same place. "It is you," he breathed, partly in relief, partly in puzzlement.

Gyan brushed past, and a moment later he heard the door close behind him.

"What in Cypress are you trying to do?" he demanded. "People will talk about this sort of thing. You've brought embarrassment to the crown with this behavior." Mayfair said nothing, and he sighed, realizing he'd made a diplomatic error of sorts. "I'm sorry. Your actions had me worried. Please, simply tell me what's wrong."

"There's something I have to tell you," she said. "And... I didn't know how to say it. I wanted to tell someone else first, but Claude and Stock aren't here, and there's no one else who I'd want to be the first to know." Her hands clenched together, and she took a trembling breath. "I... I'm pregnant."

He mulled that revelation over for a moment. Was the timing right? He didn't like the thought of putting his child at risk, but it might be a better cover for his plan...

"Well?" Mayfair prodded. He glanced up. "Aren't you going to say something?"

He shrugged. "The midwife can see to all your needs. If there's anything you want specifically from me, you know you have only to ask."

"I was hoping you would have some reaction to this news," she said, her voice suffused with dissatisfaction.

"What do you want me to say?" he returned. "Do you expect me to be surprised that my seed has proven potent? Or to thank you for telling me something that is my right to know, and that you couldn't have kept from me for long even had you wanted to?" He shook his head. "It wouldn't be like you to look for praise. Certainly not for doing what any woman is capable of. What do you expect from me?"

"Good spirits," Mayfair gasped. He had never seen her look more shocked. "I certainly did not expect you to be cruel. I confess that I didn't even expect you to be insensitive, though I had every reason to."

"Insensitive?" He suppressed his anger at that. "Why should that matter to you? Sensitivity is important, but only to those who are vulnerable. You have always been strong and reasonable."

"Perhaps. But only against individual acts of insensitivity, not against a continuous atmosphere of coldness." She looked away from him. "I had a dream a few nights ago. You approached me, seized me in your arms, and kissed me. I tried to break away, tried to make you stop, but you wouldn't let me go."

"It was just a dream."

"Dreams mean things. It's just not always possible to determine the meaning."

He folded his arms. "And what do you think this dream means?"

"That I'm tired of your treating me like a prized horse." There was more hurt in her voice than judgment, and that infuriated him more than anything. How could he have hurt her, especially without even being aware of it?

"You wrong me," he said, his voice trembling. "From the beginning of our marriage - no, from the first notes of our proposal - I've treated you with honesty and fairness. I've done everything that I can think of, or that you've asked me, to make this as easy on you as possible. Because I care about you."

"If you cared about me to any extent worth speaking of, you wouldn't have given me that flower yesterday," she retorted.

"That's nonsense. I told you..."

"It's what you told me that is nonsense. And I would have said so then, if I had not been left speechless. You know me, Nick; you must have known how giving me that flower would make me feel, especially in front of Barro."

She glared up into his eyes, defying him to deceive her again. "You're right," he sighed in defeat. "I lied. I gave you the flower partly because of Barro, and partly because we still need to practice the part of a happy couple so that we can play it well in public. That's why."

"You lied," Mayfair echoed, as though she had not heard the rest.

"That shouldn't surprise you by now."

"That's the point, Nick; it doesn't surprise me. This has become almost a routine in our friendship. So unless you are hopelessly dense -" The humor in that sounded intentional, so Nick did not resist the urge to crack a smile. Mayfair's glare only grew angrier. "- you must have realized I would figure it out. So why did you say that, knowing it would only lead us to this conversation?"

Nick shook his head. "Nothing is ever sure. I'm not surprised that you figured it out, but I had hoped you wouldn't. I had already embarrassed you by my action; it could only make things better if you thought I had done it for you. I didn't lie to hurt you. You must believe that."

She looked away. "It doesn't matter, not enough to change things. The fact remains that pulling off that act was more important to you than my feelings. That's a small thing in itself, but when insensitivity is a constant presence, and continues to be applied when I am pregnant with your child, you should understand that it upsets me."

"I tell you that I will do anything you want to help you through this pregnancy if you but ask it... and you call that insensitivity?" He could feel his rage starting to boil over again.

"That," she returned, pronouncing the word with an air of affront, "...is the same consideration a trainer gives to a prized horse."

He felt his hands trembling, and realized that, for one of a handful of times in his life, he was about to lose his temper. He had never lost it in public, because he set his less admirable emotions aside when going about his business as king. Alone with a friend, he could be himself, and that involved becoming angry. He took a deep breath, struggling to remind himself that it was not truly Mayfair who enraged him, but the notion that he treated her unfairly.

The unannounced opening of the door mercifully prevented him from ever learning how that struggle would end. Gyan poked his head in. "Nick, have you got a minute?"

He bowed his head to Mayfair. "If you will excuse me?"

She did not need to answer, and in a few moments he joined Gyan outside. Gyan closed the door behind him.

There was no one else about, so Nick let his head fall into his hands for a moment, fingers running through his hair. "What does she want from me?"

Laying a hand on his shoulder, Gyan said in an uncharacteristically grave tone, "Nick, ordinarily I find the way you make Mayfair lose all her serenity to be entertaining, but this is at the point where even I'm feeling sorry for her. Before you go back to punching holes in her self-esteem, there's something you should know."

"You were listening in, weren't you." That explained why he hadn't bothered to knock.

"You need me watching over you when you play husband."

Nick held up a hand. "Your excuses are worse than your original offenses, Gyan. Just tell me what you know about Mayfair that I don't."

"She's falling for you."

He laughed. "I hope you're joking."

"I don't blame you for being too wrapped up in yourself and your duties to notice, but the way she looks at you has become a lot less assured lately. And whenever you take her by the hand, she looks ready to swoon."

Nick shook his head. "Gyan, you've never been very observant of people."

"...Maybe not. But what makes you so sure I'm wrong?"

"We already knew each other well enough when I proposed, and she herself told me right then that she does not love me."

"I'm not talking about love, Nick. I'm talking about infatuation."

"Infatuation?" _Yes, of course that's what he meant; "falling for you", he said. But I assumed otherwise, because..._ "...That's even more absurd. Mayfair's a strong woman; she keeps her baser emotions under control. If she even _has_ baser emotions, that is. She has served people as the perfect model of a priest since she was a child, and now you're telling me that she's fallen victim to lovesickness?"

A lopsided grin spread over Gyan's face. "You're forgetting who she's lovesick for. Any other man, and I agree it'd be impossible."

"It doesn't matter who the man is. Mayfair's will is stronger than that."

Gyan bit his lip. "I think you don't appreciate just how compelling you are to the opposite sex, Nick. Let me put it this way: what Princess Muriel does to men, you do to women. Maybe more so."

That comparison struck a chord. "I see."

"And it explains what you're hearing from Mayfair, doesn't it? You're asking her to not expect anything like love from your marriage; you told her from the start that she wouldn't get it. But in her state of mind, that's asking a lot."

_It is,_ Nick silently agreed. _I've forced on her all the labors of love - marriage, lost virginity, lack of privacy from one's lover, and now pregnancy - without giving her the reward of love. Even if I never promised love, infatuation would make her feel that she is owed it._

"Look, Nick, just... be aware of what she's feeling. Otherwise, you'll be butting heads with her all day. Maybe all week. Whatever you do, don't try to talk her out of her feelings for you. She'll get past them on her own."

Nick shook his head. "I still think you're wrong about this. I hope with all my heart that you are." His father's words berated him, _You have no heart, Nicholas..._ "But I'll try to be... gentler. Thank you." He opened the door. "Would you mind not eavesdropping any further on this conversation?"

Gyan nodded. "Your wish is my command."

"Thanks."

He closed the door and returned to Mayfair, who was sitting patiently just where he'd left her. "I'm sorry," she said, before he could even open his mouth. "It wasn't my intent to simply complain about my lot. Your behavior hurts me, but it isn't truly your fault; you simply made the wrong choice. You should have married Muriel."

"We've been over this," Nick sighed.

"I know you don't love her, but at least she would have made you happy. When you danced with her, I saw how -"

"Being married to you makes me happy."

"No," she shook her head. "You grew up in isolation from most of the world, Nick. You haven't seen many couples, how marriage can entirely change their demeanor, even in marriages based on something other than love. It may seem like you've reached true happiness, but you haven't. And I can't give you it; not when I am so unhappy myself."

There was a brief silence. "Very well. I'll take your word on that, but that hardly makes my decision wrong. The diadem of Cypress sits best on your head, and if marrying you is the only way of accomplishing that, so be it. My happiness is insignificant in importance compared to the good of my people."

Mayfair stared into her lap. "I see."

"Besides, the decision is already made. Regret for wrongdoing is useful, as it may prompt moral behavior in the future, but regret for personal loss is egotistical and wasteful." He stopped for a moment, realizing he'd just slipped into a formal tone without meaning to. "The conception of my heir..." He stopped himself again, sat down beside her on the bed, and amended, "...of our first child, should not be cause for arguments. Obviously discussing my feelings on the matter only upsets you. Why don't you tell me how _you_ feel about finding yourself with child?"

"I..." She choked, and for a moment Nick feared she was going to cry, but she almost immediately regained control. "For myself, I feel very proud to bear your child. It's somewhat embarrassing, because I fear I am not worthy of the honor. But mostly I am overcome with wonder at knowing that the child of Cypress's king and savior will be my child as well."

She didn't sound overcome by wonder, but Nick opted to simply listen rather than question.

"However... all of that is overshadowed by what I feel for the child himself. I didn't think about it when I agreed to marry you, but Nick..." She turned towards him and said in a hushed voice, "...we're bringing a child into a loveless marriage."

"I was brought up under a loveless marriage. I seem to have turned out fine."

She looked him in the eye. "That is because you are an exceptional person. We can't rely on your child turning out the same."

He considered the best arguments against her concerns. By his own experience, he could not imagine that he would have been happier or benefited in any way had his parents loved each other. His sister had turned out wonderfully as well. Besides, what were the feelings between one's parents to a child?

But he remembered that Mayfair had known far more families than he, and whether or not it was right, her judgment was more well-founded than his, and she knew it. _No sense in starting another futile argument. It's better to just give her what she wants._

"...What do you want to do about it, then?"

"It's too late to do anything about it." She clenched a fold of her skirt. "This is my fault. Even if it was for the greater good, I scarcely gave a thought to my own child when I agreed to marry you. To help the children of Cypress, I've done irreparable emotional harm to him. And you. And myself. What kind of person am I, that to give just a little help to people who are mostly strangers, I would so hurt those closest to me?"

"A very self-sacrificing one," Nick answered. "You care for our people as your own children. Don't distort the qualities that make you Cypress's ideal queen into flaws. There are negative consequences to your decision to marry me, but that hardly means you didn't make the right choice for all the right reasons. To say otherwise is simply an effort to rationalize your guilt." Deciding to test Gyan's observation, he reached over and took one of her hands in his. A shudder went through her, but he could not interpret it. "Besides, you're letting your shock exaggerate the situation. The most important thing to our child isn't going to be that you and I don't love each other, but that you love him."

Mayfair was staring at his hand. "Maybe you're right... but..." She abruptly stood up and walked towards the window. He followed, though he allowed her hand to escape his. "A child should mean more to his parents than a means to an end."

"He does. The fact that he exists solely to carry on the royal line of my ancestors doesn't prevent him from being loved. Speaking of which, I suppose I should ask your permission to publicly announce the child's conception, given that it's a sensitive issue for you at the moment."

It took her a moment to register the change in subject, but all told she answered very readily, "That's fine. The sooner people know that the Royal Family is being restored, the better. I won't let my feelings interfere with that."

"Wonderful. We'll announce it the afternoon after tomorrow." He paused. "And if it would please you, you're welcome to join me for my morning ride tomorrow. Just something to lighten your spirits. Naturally, if there's another activity you would prefer, one not involving my presence, I would be happy to arrange it."

"Thank you, but I can arrange things for myself."

"Very well. One other thing, then, and I will leave you to yourself."

In one swift motion he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him, gracefully, as though beginning a dance. Then he lowered his head to kiss her. As soon as his lips touched hers, she shoved him away and stepped back, hands clenched in ready defense. "What are you doing!?" she demanded.

Nick smiled. "That depended on the outcome. Had you allowed me, I would have been enjoying a good kiss. Since you did not... I'm proving to you that it was just a dream."

With that, he took his leave, rather pleased with how he had handled the matter.

----------------------

The time had come for the finishing blow, Daemon decided. The king had to be rattled by the discovery that his father's ghost was not limited to the confines of the castle library. He hid it well, but a perceptive eye could pick up the signs of his nervousness, and Daemon was looking for them.

He slapped the book open on his desk to review the spell's third phase. King Nicholas had to be losing his doubts by now; the image of his father would know him so well, emulate his father so neatly. And its persistence would be trying his ability to ignore it. He would have to conclude either that his father was a true ghost, or that he was going mad. Either of which would serve Iom's purposes admirably. King Nicholas was honest enough that he would promptly declare himself mentally incompetent and turn the rule of Cypress over to his wife.

That in itself could be useful. For all her admirable qualities, Queen Mayfair did not have the king's upbringing, experience, or political skill. Moreover, she could not possibly continue serving as general while being a full-time ruler, and that position would be passed to someone far less competent; Irinod or Randolf, perhaps. Most importantly, this would give the king's trusted Minister of Decorum good reason to take him on a tour of the countryside as a curative for his mental health. From there it would be easy to spirit him away to the unregulated wilds of Emild, to be taken to Iom and sacrificed.

The final step to bring that about was to make his father's ghost follow him everywhere, even in public. If all was going well(and Daemon had every reason to believe it was), the king's mental state would mostly accomplish that on its own.

"Bind," a feminine voice intoned, and Daemon jumped in his seat. Looking down, he found that his arms and legs were bound to his chair by mystical bands of energy.

He looked to the entrance of his room, to see the lovely Yeesha standing there, looking as pathetically overestimating of her importance as ever. "You've made the worst mistake anyone can make, Daemon," she said. "You underestimated King Nicholas."

"Did I?" he asked, uselessly straining at his bonds. _Damn the woman! How? How did she know what I was doing, or who was doing it?_

"Even before all this, he suspected there was a traitor in Castle Cypress. He deduced that this traitor might be responsible for his father haunting him almost from the start." She stepped forward, leaving the door to his room open.

_How?_ he wondered again, not bothering to ask it aloud. _I did nothing in accordance with my allegiance to almighty Iom until creating the illusion of his father. What could have made him suspect a traitor?_

"When you made King Gadrios appear outside the library, that only affirmed his suspicions, and allowed me to trace your enchantment. Since you placed the one in the library on-site, I had no way of uncovering its source. His Majesty called me to do that as soon as his father appeared outside the library. After that, we only needed to wait for your next casting, so that I could catch you unawares and dispel your enchantment."

"But... the door. It was locked."

Yeesha's held up a key, eyes twinkling with bemusement. "Did you really think that the king doesn't have access to rooms within his own castle?"

"I meant, it was locked with spells. No one should have been able to turn a key in that lock, and I should have been warned when anyone tried."

"You always thought so little of my skill with magic," she said, folding her arms. "Just a simple servant girl; that's what you thought, even if you never bothered to say it aloud. I'm almost not surprised that you've been an intimate of Iom all these years."

Daemon shook his head. "Not all these years. Woldol converted me. Why follow ephemeral gods of light when Iom gives one the power to do - this?"

----------------------

Daemon came out of his seat, shattering the bonds that held him to the chair, and fired a level 4 Blaze spell at Yeesha. There was no time to cast a Shield spell in defense - not nearly enough time.

Instead, Yeesha leapt straight up with a mighty kick of her legs, smashing through the ceiling like a rocketing cannonball. Her momentum remained strong, and her leap came to an end twenty feet above Daemon's study, a little box of a room sitting in the middle of an endless expanse of plain blue sky.

Looking up at her through the new hole in the ceiling, Daemon laughed. "Very good! You caught on right away. Though you must admit, little servant girl, this only proves that my estimation of your skill with magic was perfectly correct. Even as you disabled the enchantments I placed on the door's lock, you completely failed to uncover the illusion spell I set for anyone entering the room!"

In spite of herself, Yeesha blushed. "You still lose, Daemon. My Bind spell targeted your essence, not your image. That means that in the real world, you _are_ tied to your chair, completely unable to hurt me. In under a minute I'll have found the root of this illusion spell and broken it."

"Will you?" he laughed. "I'm tempted to let you try, just to prove how incapable you are. To think that King Nicholas trusts you as his chief wielder of magic! However, I don't believe in taking needless risks." The illusionary Blaze spell had apparently set the room on fire, Yeesha realized; flames were now licking at every wall around Daemon. "Neither of us can harm the other in the physical realm, but I can keep you entertained here long enough for your spell to weaken. Let's take a look at what you have crawling inside your memories, hmm?"

The fire rapidly consumed the room, and the illusionary Daemon with it. The blue sky around her dissolved, replaced by the stone walls of a tower, and the pinkish tint of a magical barrier...

She swallowed. _No... No... I spent over four months of my life here, I won't spend another minute, not..._

"Ah! You're awake, I see." Bazoo's old limbs shuffled forward. "Welcome to your new home, my pretty mage. Shall we begin?"


	23. Chapter 23: see inside for title

- Chapter 23: On the Difficulty of Weeding Out Traitors -

Sitting on his pallet, surrounded by the stench of the unwashed floor, Chester gave a weary sigh. _I hope your people are on their way to set King Ian straight, King Nicholas. I really do._

He heard footsteps clapping on stone, and got up to see who it was. When he laid eyes on his visitor, his hand gripped one of the bars of his cell tightly. "Akron."

"Sir Chester." The king's advisor bowed his head to him, making his dwarven beard ripple over his collar. "The king agreed to allow me to try getting a few answers from you. It is paramount to Emild that he knows what Cypress is up to."

"As I explained to the inquisitor a dozen times already, I haven't the slightest idea what Cypress is up to," Chester said.

Akron peered at him. "You do sound as though you're telling the truth. King Nicholas just might be clever enough to keep any details secret from you. But at the least, you know what information you sent them from His Majesty's correspondence."

"Let's stop this nonsense," Chester said, folding his arms. "I was taken in by traitors once before; I'm not likely to do that ever again. You know perfectly well that I never sent Cypress any information. You know that even if Cypress had less than the best of intentions towards Emild, they would never take such a risk as having a spy dig into the king's private papers. The only traitor around here is you!"

"Me," Akron said, blinking.

"You're the one who keeps playing on His Majesty's paranoia, milking it to rid yourself of your enemies in the court. You probably forged that seditious letter from Lord Albert. Albert isn't the best man I've known, but I'd lay odds against him being a traitor any day. He was the one man who could have convinced King Ian that treating Cypress with suspicion isn't the wise thing to do. That's why you needed to get rid of him."

"Oh my," Akron shook his head. "Such a flaming breath of cruel lies and accusations. And you've practically admitted to attempting to destroy that letter from Lord Albert while you had your hands on His Majesty's papers. His Majesty will be most displeased when he hears this." He turned away. "By the way, your first torture session has been set for tomorrow. If you have any inclination at all to share the truth with us, I'd advise you to do so soon and save yourself some pain."

Alone again, Chester plopped himself back down on his pallet. _This just keeps getting worse and worse. Torture hasn't been permitted in Emild since the reign of King Ian's grandfather. Even then, it was only used on enemy soldiers and convicted traitors. Disregard for presumed innocence hasn't been seen in Emild for over two hundred years!_

_Not to mention the chief problem with torturing someone who may not be guilty... you can draw a false confession out of him. How long can I hold out before I start babbling about Cypress being on their way to assassinate King Ian?_

He heard footsteps again. Much lighter ones, however; he heard them but a couple seconds before seeing the feet which produced them. "Hello, Chester."

He shot to his feet, hissing, "May, you shouldn't be here! They're suspicious of your friendship with me already."

"Don't worry. I have a good cover story; they won't suspect me. Besides, I needed to fill you in on what's going on. Have you heard about the diplomatic party coming from Cypress?"

Chester nodded. "They mentioned that. They're going to torture me to find out about information I supposedly sent to them."

"I heard. Listen, when they interrogate you, simply tell them you sent word that King Ian has refused to open up trade discussions with Sharland. Tell them that's all you were able to find out before Sir Elric caught you in His Majesty's desk."

"But... that's nonsense!" he burst out. "If I were spying for Cypress, I wouldn't be so stupid as to try sending them information after being caught! It's almost a certainty that someone would see me if I did. And if I tell them that lie, that will give them all the excuse they need to mark Cypress as enemies! I can't betray them like that. Besides, it won't save my skin; they'll never be satisfied with that."

May held up a hand. "Believe me, they'll be satisfied. Our king may be having problems with trust, but he never takes his suspicions as far as they would need to go if someone really were out to get him. Just tell them what I said, and ask for forgiveness. Tell them that you'll warn the Cypressians that their plans won't work."

"What about the late king? You know they'll ask me about that eventually."

"Tell them that the king granted the Cypress army a private audience. You heard a commotion, and when you came in the king was gone, and the Cypress army was chasing Gordon. You don't know what happened to the king."

"If I say that, King Ian will just assume that the Cypress army killed him!"

May brushed a weary hand over her fur. "Perhaps, but it's the only thing he'll believe, short of flat-out affirmation of his suspicions."

"No." Chester folded his arms. "I won't do it. To tell them that would be betraying our friends, and our king as well, by giving him false information."

"Chester, you don't know what they'll do to you if you don't give them what they want!"

"I'm giving them the truth. Nothing more, nothing less." He set his jaw out firmly, well-aware of how much it took to make someone as comparatively short as himself look firm. At that gesture, however, May's mouth hung upon slightly and her eyes rounded in an utterly distraught expression. "May, I... I didn't mean I'm going to tell them why I was in His Majesty's desk. The whole truth, except for that."

That lightened May's expression somewhat, and a faint laugh escaped her. "I wasn't thinking of that. Don't you realize... they're really going to hurt you, Chester. The party from Cypress is going to be here soon, and the inquisitors will want answers before then. They may even kill you."

"You're not the only one who can throw herself in harm's way."

She paused a moment, and sighed. "Very well. Then, my next piece of news... I'm not sure, but I think King Ian's made arrangements for the deaths of the Cypress party. You may be holding out for nothing."

Chester stiffened. "What... he...?" Then he shook his head. "It's not for nothing. If something happens to their diplomat, Cypress will take it as an act of war, and clear King Ian out. It may be too late for King Ian, but it's not too late for Emild."

"Chester! If that happens, Cypress will take over Emild!"

"Maybe. But if King Ian takes things to such extremes, one nation or another is going to take offense. So long as you're around, Emild is more likely to receive mercy from Cypress than from anywhere else."

"You're resolved, then." She sighed again, very heavy, as though bidding a good friend farewell for a long voyage. "Lord Albert has been locked away. Now that Helen is back, there's absolutely nothing I can do to assuage King Ian's paranoia. Between Akron and that... that woman, anything but speculations of conspiracy is going to come off as nothing more than dissenting opinion."

"Don't give up." He stretched his hand up to place it, briefly, upon her arm. "You know General Mayfair will see to it that Cypress does all it can to fix this. But even if they fail, don't give up. We owe that to His Majesty."

May just nodded at him and walked away.

Taking his seat again, Chester rubbed his chin in thought. _Odd that she seems so concerned about me. I suppose we became close, in a way, while we were working with the Cypress army - most of us did. But we've scarcely spoken to each other since those days. Why am I so important to her all of the sudden? ...Unless it's my imagination, of course, and she really has nothing more than normal concern for a casual friend. More important is what she said about King Ian's plans for the Cypress diplomatic mission. If it's true..._

----------------------

"...Ian's condition may have deteriorated more than we've feared," Helen said, tucking little Emilia in. "So try not to make your brothers mad for a few days, okay?"

Emilia frowned. "I never make Ian angry, and what's Kay and Marlin getting angry got to do with Ian?"

Helen sighed. _Hopeless._ "Just show Ian how much you love him and be extra nice to Kay and Marlin for a few days."

"So long as they're not extra mean to me." Still clutching her old doll in one hand, she folded her arms. "Like they always are."

_Hopeless._ She left Emilia's room without another word and went down the hall to the boys' room. By her judgment it was a mistake to continue to keep the two of them in the same bedroom, but Ian refused to give in to their feuding. "They've got to learn to live like brothers," he'd say.

_Even if it means that their midnight brawls will drive him even more mad than he is already._ She knocked briefly on their door, then pushed it open. The boys were in the middle of pulling on their pajamas. She disregarded their obvious embarrassment, having no patience for such misplaced self-consciousness. She had been Kay's nurse, and was not even of the same species as the boys.

"What d'you want?" Marlin demanded, getting under his covers.

"Watch your attitude," she said, giving them both a look. "I'm pleased to see that you two haven't started fighting yet."

"Kay's too angry at Emilia right now t'get angry with me."

"How heartening," she drawled, watching Kay snap himself under his covers with a blush. "Then Ian can rely upon a peaceful night?"

"Why do I always get this lecture?" Kay spat out.

"Do you?"

"Yes! I never start any of this; it's always those two acting like little gremlins, driving Ian and me up a wall. But whenever one of you comes to straighten things out, you just blame me along with- See! See!" He pointed at Marlin, who had been miming Kay's little diatribe in a mocking fashion.

"It doesn't matter who starts the trouble," she returned. "You're all responsible for turning it into fights. Out of respect for your brother, I want you both to put a stop to it tonight. Ian is... is not well."

As she walked out, again closing the door behind her, she felt how inadequate those words were. It was like telling a dragon that his brother has hot breath. None of them were sane; it was only that Ian's madness was easily influenced by others. It was a sorry state of affairs to have such a man as king.

_Why do we allow humans to hold our thrones? How did it ever come to be like this, with over half the nations ruled by madmen? I admit that it took the rather blatant madness of the late king to awaken me to their shared ailment, but... why didn't wiser heads than I see their unfitness to rule? Not that it matters now, of course. Ian is the rightful king and I must stand by him despite his instability._

She made her way down the dimly lit halls to Ian's room, shaking her head in an unhappy acknowledgment of the insanity of the situation. _Gods, what a sad race humans are. No sooner do they reach physical maturity than their bodies begin to waste and rot, wrinkles and deterioration wearing into every part of them. Even their very minds._

She knocked on the door to Ian's room, and a servant opened it. Seeing her, Ian gestured for the man to leave. He was not wearing his crown; Helen remembered how his father never took it off before laying down to sleep.

"They're in bed, Your Majesty," she told him, bowing her head slightly.

He nodded. "Thank you... Helen."

There was a pause; he had one of those odd looks on his face. Braving that, she ventured, "Why didn't you have the servants see them to bed, as usual?"

"They're driving me mad, Helen," he sighed, clutching his head in his hands. "I've had to take on all the responsibility since father died. All they've done is turn into a pack of animals. I need them to give me some peace tonight, and..." He smiled shyly. "...you've always had a way with children."

She suspected it wasn't so much that his siblings were driving him mad as that they weren't keeping him sane, but it amounted to the same thing. "You were an easy child to deal with, Your Majesty."

"Mmm. Those were easy days." An eyebrow lifted. "Has Chester given up any information?"

"Not yet, but we haven't begun... questioning him throughly yet."

"We don't have time to wait for that. I'll have to try May next."

"You mean..." Even knowing the king's state of mind, this suggestion shocked her. "Your Majesty, that isn't wise. It's true May traveled with the Cypress army, but we have no reason to suspect her of collaborating with them. It's likely enough that she was duped."

"She defended Chester's story!" Ian's face transformed into raw anger in an instant. "That my father... sweet gods, that my father as I knew him in his final days was a twisted Iom worshiper! The insult to his honor... the denial of Cypress's part in his death... she supports that, and yet claims to be loyal to Emild!? That is..."

"...foolishness," Helen filled in. "Foolishness, and nothing more, Your Majesty. She never claimed to have actually seen what happened to the king herself. Wouldn't she have made the same claim as Chester if she truly were a traitor? Chester and the Cypress army told her lies, and she was trusting enough to believe them then. Just today Akron told me that May has admitted that she was probably too quick to trust Chester's word. With all respect, Your Majesty, it's absurd to think she could be a traitor." In truth, she was keeping a wary eye on May herself. But to be certain of her guilt at this point was madness.

"Absurd..." The king held his expression for a moment, then broke into a chuckle. "Well, no one had yet told me about her retraction of support for Chester. Still, it's suspiciously timed, don't you think? Coming right after his imprisonment..."

"Actually, it was right before."

"Nonetheless, it's a bit..." He shook his head. "No matter. If you feel my suspicion was hasty, then perhaps..."

The door crashed open, and Emilia bounded in, her brothers right behind her, all still in their nightclothes. "Eeeeeee-an! Kay put a dead ooze in my pants!"

"I told him not to do it! I told him it'd get you upset and -"

"She's lying! I put it on her neck, not her pants, and after what she -"

"Stop," Ian croaked, falling down on one knee, clutching his head in his hands. His siblings came to an immediate halt and stared at him in silence. Helen couldn't help but stare herself. "No more. Do I have to watch you all tear each other apart, too? Isn't it enough that father is dead? Isn't it enough!?"

Emilia started crying. Kay and Marlin twitched and looked back and forth between Ian and Emilia, mouths hanging half open with nothing useful to come out of them.

"Get out of here," Helen snarled at the three of them. "Back in bed, now. All of you. And don't you dare come back here. You're mad, all of you, that you would continue to inflict this on your brother! If you have a single ounce of sanity among you, you'll get out of my sight this minute!"

Kay and Marlin quickly retreated, dragging along the hopelessly weeping Emilia.

----------------------

Marlin guided Emilia back to her bedroom. He didn't want to – Emilia always thought she was so important and special, it always got on his nerves - but obviously he couldn't leave it to Kay. He was still too angry over the burning of his beloved poems, and she was probably mad at him, too.

"He's dead," Emilia sniffled as Marlin opened the door to her room and led her in. "Father's dead."

He felt his heart clench at those words. "Yeah, I know. Shut up about it, will you?"

Her bed was a mess; she must have thrashed around a lot when Kay planted the dead ooze on her. Marlin prodded her onto the mattress, then smoothed out the covers as he pulled them over her. She sniffled one last time as she looked at him.

"Did you really tell Kay not to do it?"

"Well, yeah." He paused only a second before admitting, "But only 'cause I didn't want Ian t'get all upset."

"...I love you, Marlin."

"What?" _The heck? That really came out of nowhere._ "Three or four days ago you said you hoped my fingers'd get chewed off."

"Well, now I love you." She suddenly sat up in bed and threw her arms around his midsection, squeezing tight.

_This is crazy and stupid,_ Marlin told himself, fighting the sharp pain in his heart that immediately came with her embrace. _Emilia's so stuck-up and self-important, I... I just hate it. And mother, father, and Ian all loved her more, just because she's the only girl and I'm just another boy._

But he couldn't stop himself from hugging her back, or running his hand soothingly over the back of her head. It just hurt too much to not do it. _This is so unfair. She gets all the love and attention from everyone else, and I have to love her too?_

Admittedly, when she let him go he felt much happier than he had before she hugged him. He tucked her in again, and on the way out, he gathered the dead ooze off the floor and took it away.


	24. Chapter 24: Sweet Memories

- Chapter 24: Sweet Memories -

It hurt. She didn't expect it to; after all, to a lesser extent, her magical energies were drained every time she cast a spell, and that certainly didn't hurt to any extent worth speaking of. Yet having her entire flow of magical strength uprooted and torn from her was painful enough to make Yeesha scream, though she would not give Bazoo that satisfaction. Worse than the initial stroke, however, was the enduring sense of emptiness that followed. No... not emptiness, not quite. Something else, but she couldn't put her finger on it...

"Wonderful!" Bazoo cried, stretching his limbs with an exuberance that seemed alien to his gnarled body. "The spell is complete at last. Your magical energies are now added to mine, constantly feeding my ability to cast spells. And I must say, my pretty mage, you have a fairly impressive store. As much as my own, in fact. It should allow me to take a more active hand than ever before in dealing with the dissidents."

One of the soldiers accompanying Bazoo stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Alright, boss, you got what you wanted. Can I play with her now?"

Bazoo turned to him and raised his eyebrow. "For shame, sergeant! A soldier of mighty Cypress needs to take a woman by force?"

The sergeant blushed; Bazoo's comment had a teasing tone, but the other three soldiers were looking at him with genuine disgust. "She's pretty. I want her," he insisted.

"I'm not inclined to give you her." The wizard gestured, and the mystical orb imprisoning Yeesha moved towards a small, dank room occupied by nothing more than a shelf with a few empty vials. "It's our job to instill fear. A reputation for rape only makes us seem pathetic. Besides, her magic is valuable to me, and damage to the package could endanger that."

He closed the old wooden door after her, enclosing her in darkness. A latch slid into place. That dreadful sound stirred her to action. "You can't... you can't lock me in here!" she cried, pounding a fist on the door.

"I'll have you brought food twice a day," Bazoo said pleasantly.

"This... this isn't a proper prison cell! I can barely move in here!"

"Indeed. Think of it as an interesting reversal. Instead of being servant in an opulent palace, you're queen of an abandoned closet." Bazoo chuckled, and she heard his footsteps recede.

Yeesha slumped against the door, her chest tightening around her heart just as her suffocating prison seemed to tighten around her. "No... I can't be trapped here in this tiny space like this, not again..." She suddenly froze. "Not... again?"

_Of course! Nick and the Guardianans defeated Bazoo and freed me. We fought against Woldol's forces and killed all his leaders, including Edmond and Bazoo. I returned to Castle Cypress with Nick and Gyan. The true monarchy was restored. King Nicholas went to war against Iom and I was exiled in his absence. I tried to find my way to Iom to help, but the soldiers of Cypress found me first and brought me back. Cypress was victorious, Nick was crowned and he married Mayfair and started seeing images of his father and -_

"Daemon!" she cried. "You failed again! Leading me to bury myself in my most traumatic memory is a good trick, but it didn't work. I know this is all illusion. I -"

Her hand felt up the wooden door of her cell. It still felt firm, solid. "It's illusion. I know it is." She focused her mind, and willed her cell, the whole tower of Bazoo, to disappear. Nothing happened.

_Blessed Light. It's not real, but how do I make it go away?_ Yeesha knew almost nothing of the field of illusion; her specialties were destructive magic and sensitive manipulation of objects. She had thought that she would be able to detect the root of the illusion spell while under its power, but that wasn't proving to be the case. Her only blessing was that Nick had instructed the guards not to interfere; if one of them were to stumble in and also be taken by Daemon's spell, there was no telling what he might do.

She slid to the floor of the cell. Defeat seemed to be reaching its grip around her heart. _How do I defeat this? Nick relied on me to do it, but I'm like a toddler trying to win a game of chess. Without understanding the craft of illusion, how can..._

_Wait. This isn't pure illusion. It's memory. Daemon isn't crafting these images; I am. I still can't will them away, but maybe I can remember my way past them. My environment was almost the same right after Bazoo was defeated as it was when he first imprisoned me: the same walls around me, the same door, the same absence of company, the same ill tang in the air. If I concentrate on remembering the moment of my liberation, perhaps I can make this moment into that one..._

A moment of time hung suspended, and then she felt power flowing into her. Without hesitation, she used a Blaze spell to burn through the door, and ran deep into the halls of the tower. The open space felt wonderful. As she entered the parts of the tower which she had never visited before, the walls and decorations around her distorted and faded, leaving her in a blank void.

_Ah, this makes it much easier to concentrate on finding the root of Daemon's spell. I'm not sure I could have done it with my magical energies drained by Bazoo, anyway... even if it was just a memory. But now, if I just feel it out, caref-_

Yeesha went stiff. Her body suddenly felt very different. Drastically so. Looking down, shock struck her like a cruel whip. It was hard to judge exactly, but taking into account the length of her legs and her lack of breasts, she had to conclude that she had returned to her early adolescence.

Then the next shock struck. "Yeesha?"

It was Nick's voice calling. A very young Nick.

_No. I'm not falling into another memory. It's not going to work again, Daemon._

But against her will, she turned around and looked to see a door opening. Nick stepped forth, as youthful as herself. "Yeesha, have you a little time for a friend?"

_No. Gods no, not this. I don't want to remember this!_

But Nick was handsome and proud, with that undefinable liveliness he'd lost when Woldol took his family. So she smiled brightly at him and answered, "Of course, Nick. Always." And the blank void around them was filled in by the walls of her old quarters in Castle Cypress.

----------------------

Mayfair spent a good long while in her room, even after Nick left. His words... his avowed willingness to sacrifice his own happiness for the good of Cypress... both dismayed and compelled her. Dismayed, because she wanted him to be happy, and compelled, because it spoke of the inherent quality of his character, his dignity and heroism. Nick was a temptation to every womanly instinct she had.

_I am sure that some would call me hopelessly misguided: married to what one might call the perfect man, and yet I do not love him. Above all else, his insensitivity prevents that. A woman like Muriel would not be bothered, but for me, sensitivity towards the feelings of others is the foremost thing I would desire in a man._

She stood up. _This... unhappiness that I experience with Nick, and that I to some extent inflict on him, must not be for nothing. I must be a better queen for Cypress than Muriel would have been. Nick would say that my value as an emblem for the nation, and my "strength and wisdom" in ruling, do that alone. But what need has Cypress for either when Nicholas II is king? I need to take action on my own._

An idea had already been wandering into her head now and then, and she decided to act on it. As she stepped out of the bedroom, a servant bowed to her. "Is there anything you desire, Your Majesty?"

She nodded. "Tell me... do you know if Jaron is about?"

"In his quarters, I believe."

"Thank you."

Talking to him would be the first step. For the second, there were many preparations that she could arrange at Castle Cypress and the neighboring villages.

She thought again of her child. Remorse for the way she had brought him into the world was still heavy on her heart. Her parents had brought her into the world through love, and she had made her own child from the weaker gift of duty. However, Nick had made a worthy point; the child would not be unloved. Neither by her, nor(she was quite confident, from observing him with Barro) by Nick. And in any case, there was no sense in spending further energy on fretting about the matter.

----------------------

The board was set up for a fairly standard battle scenario. Yeesha didn't know nearly enough of strategy to handle anything more complex, and they weren't looking to spend a lot of time with the game, anyway. Nick's education and training kept him almost constantly at work, and this was one of but a handful of occasions over the past several years that he had actually spent any time with her.

She advanced a piece and asked, "Is there something wrong, Nick?"

His eyes remained on the board. Nick loved this game, and seemingly never tired of devising new strategies for winning at it. That made it a good activity to smooth over any potential awkwardness in their conversation. "Father is very upset with me."

"His Majesty? Upset?" That was truly hard to imagine.

"'Upset' isn't quite the right word. But it's the one I'd prefer to use." He paused to push forward a piece.

"Why come to me about it, instead of Gyan or your sister? Not that I'm not grateful that you did," she added quickly.

"I think you'd understand this particular problem better than anyone else... save Jenny, and I can't talk to her about it because it involves her. Yeesha... father thinks I spend too much time with her. He says that I've become too close to her."

Yeesha frowned. "Too close to your sister? Yet His Majesty doesn't mind the way you've befriended Gyan, or me? Or..."

"None of you are royalty. Father knows that we all know our places with respect to each other. Not so with Jenny and I."

She had to mull over that statement for a minute. In the interim, she remembered she had not yet actually made her move, and advanced two of her pieces. "You're saying... His Majesty is telling you that your place is not the same as your sister's? That you shouldn't think of each other as siblings? That's..." She almost said "ridiculous", but caught herself just in time.

"He's right, Yeesha. My sister's place isn't the same as mine." Nick made his move. "Eventually, I am to be Cypress's ruler. She is not."

"And you agree with him, that you're in some slot higher than your sister, just because the order you were born in makes you the heir? That your... your random fortune means more than the blood you share?" she demanded, slamming one of her pieces against the most advanced of his.

There was silence for a very long moment, as Nick looked upon his fallen piece. "That was a very hasty and thoughtless move, Yeesha."

She swallowed and looked down at the board. Something about his tone of voice made her feel unaccountably ashamed. Nick began moving his pieces, not in retaliation against the attacking piece, but in a calculated maneuver. Watching, Yeesha gradually realized that she had left a hole in her defense that she could not possibly close in time.

"Someday my sister will marry, and someday I'll be king. We'll go to our separate lives. Nothing I do can stop that. I don't want to be separated from Jenny, but I have to. And when you get too close to someone, separation hurts."

"Isn't it -"

"I'm not finished, Yeesha." She closed her mouth. "That's not why father is concerned. The important thing is that these feelings for my sister are completely unnecessary, and like any feelings, they can interfere with my ability to be a good king."

He stopped. Yeesha opened her mouth again, but Nick glared her to silence.

"I'll tell you when I'm finished," he said sharply. "...The fact is that neither of those things frighten me. I want to be as good a king as father, but why should I have to give up all emotional contact? I can very well do the job without such extreme sacrifices. And even if it will hurt more when I am separated from her, I... I will happily accept that pain in exchange for the memories of the time we've spent together."

He paused again there, and Yeesha had to bite her lip to keep from speaking. There was a painful lump in her heart at his words, at how she had misjudged him.

"But can I ask my sister to do the same? If our positions were the same, perhaps, but..." He stared down at the board, and swallowed. "I worry that Jenny loves me far more than I do her." Yeesha somehow doubted that, but she didn't really know how the two of them related, so she held her opinion to herself. Nick looked up at her. "Now I'm finished."

"Nick... if your sister feels that way about you... letting your father keep the two of you apart will hurt her more, not less. If you keep on being her brother, when the time comes for you two to part, at least she'll always know you love her. The separation will only be physical."

His eyes brightened. "You're right... I..."

There was an odd pause, as though the two of them were struggling together to somehow define the moment. And in that emptiness, Yeesha suddenly felt very aware of how long it had been since she'd last spoken with Nick, how lively and warm he was compared to his father, his charming confidence in his own abilities, and the way his bright locks of hair framed his face...

She advanced, and in an impulsive rush threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling herself to him, her mouth reaching for his.

"Yeesha!" Nick forced her away from him, gripping her arms painfully tight to restrain her. His face darted about, eyes sparked with alarm. "Sweet Cypress, Yeesha... if someone were to see you..."

She blushed deeply, staring at the floor. She had acted without thinking, utterly forgetting the terrible shame for a member of royalty to have an affair with a mere servant. Yet Nick seemed concerned mainly for her sake. Which made sense, she realized; King Gadrios would surely bury the incident to protect his son, but she would at the least be expelled from Castle Cypress, to prevent such an incident between them from ever occurring again. And where could a young palace servant go to in the world outside palace walls?

Apparently satisfied that no one had seen, Nick turned to look her right in the eye. "Please... promise you won't ever do that again."

"I... I promise, Nick."

As horrible as the embarrassment was, it was not as terrible as that: looking into his eyes and seeing no regret. He did not feel about her in the way she had begun to feel for him. Yeesha had never realized how much hope she had subconsciously placed on his returning her affections until that moment.

_But it was a foolish thing to hope for in the first place! Much as I thought I knew Nick, I was completely mistaken about many of the traits I admired in him. He seemed warm and kind because that was how he was with me, and because of his fierce love for his father and his sister. But from talking to Gyan since, I know that he has always been cold and disdainful towards the common folk. If anything, he is less so now..._

_..."Now"?_ "Yeesha? ...Are you alright?"

She leapt up. "By the Light, Nick, this has already happened! This happened years ago!"

"What?"

She ran from him, not bothering to reply to a ghost from her memory. _How much time did I waste with that memory? How much longer before my Bind spell wears off?_ Perhaps there was a quicker way to escape these illusions, but all she knew to do was escape Castle Cypress and find some place she hadn't been before. She flung open a door, ran in -

A hand clamped down on her shoulder. "Remain seated until you are called to testify, Yeesha."

_Testify? What is...?_ Without thinking, she followed the speaker's order and sat down in a chair that she instinctively knew was slightly to her right. The movement made her realize that she once more had a fully developed adult body. _But how...?_

"Thank you, Gregor," said a voice whose familiar smugness sent a deep chill down her spine. She looked up and there, perched atop the judge's chair, was Varmo.

----------------------

"We don't need to raise funds, Your Majesty," Jaron reassured her, as the servants set lunch before them. "It's quite possible as is."

"Even with Cypress still recovering from the wars?" Mayfair pressed.

"Under His Majesty's direction, that recovery is mostly complete," Jaron answered. "I'm told that shortage of troops is still a problem, but everything else seems to be going fine, and our coffers could scarcely be doing better. The loss of trade with Emild is a setback, but it is made up for many times over by our new agreement with Guardiana. This includes some techniques which have given Cypress's farmers a better than average harvest, so His Majesty saw no harm in raising taxes, and given all he's meant to them, the people have been quite happy to pay a little more."

"Are you saying we have been prospering off the labors of Cypress's people?"

Jaron winced. "No, no, Your Majesty! We... we are not prospering, by any means; I did not mean to imply such. We simply have enough to afford what you are suggesting without concern. That is all I meant."

"I understand," she nodded. "But tell me... just how high did Nick raise taxes?"

"Nowhere near enough to burden the people... if that is what you are wondering. If you like, I can take a half hour or so to review the details."

"That isn't necessary, thank you." She trusted Nick; not on personal matters, but on doing what was best for the people. "If I can rely upon you for the costs, then, I shall see about making the other arrangements."

----------------------

"Well, Yeesha?" Varmo said, with a grand proffer of his hand in her direction. "You are now permitted to speak in response to the witness's testimony. Have you anything to say in your defense?"

"The same thing I said in response to the other 'witnesses'," she said coldly.

"Your lack of respect for this court is noted," Varmo nodded, and Yeesha felt sure she saw a smile of pleasure touch his lips at that stroke. "But are you truly not bothered at facing no less than three eyewitnesses to your conspiracy to rebellion?"

In truth, "lack of respect" didn't begin to describe it. The whole affair was a farce. Excepting perhaps some of the elves, none at the trial had reached their twentieth year. A few of them looked upon her with sympathy(Theo and Donlie were there, and a few of her students) but most showed only juvenile excitement at the prospect of a traitor receiving terrible judgment. Yeesha doubted that they gave any thought as to whether or not she actually _was _a traitor. And there were some(she had to admit, they numbered at least as many as her supporters) who regarded her with open hostility. She had challenged and questioned Varmo, the one who gave them their illusion of security and prosperity. Moreover, she was an adult, and a rare voice of sense and reason in Castle Cypress during His Majesty's absence, whereas Varmo was one of them. Whether or not she was guilty, they hoped to see her hang.

"They are lying, and I would hope that is obvious to anyone who has heard them testify, but I have no way of proving it. What I cannot change cannot bother me."

Someone hollered, "Cut the fancy double-talk, you stuck-up snit!"

Her ears burned, and though she stayed rigid in her seat, she wanted to cry. This was all wrong. Most of those in attendance were people she didn't even know; she'd done nothing to them. How could they let Varmo turn them into an unreasoning, bloodthirsty mob like this?

"What is the matter, Yeesha?" Varmo said, folding his arms. "Are you going to cry because His Majesty isn't here to protect your pampered self from prosecution?"

Yeesha stiffened at those words, then let out a laugh. "Varmo never said that! Getting desperate, aren't you? Adjusting my memories to make them more painful?"

Varmo edged back in his chair, staring at her with bewilderment. "What nonsense are you spouting?"

"Come off it, Daemon!" She snapped onto her feet, slapping her palms on the table before her. "You think I don't know my own memories? You've blown your last chance; as soon as this illusion dissolves, I'll be able to end your spell."

"Daemon? The Minister of Decorum?" Varmo's confusion lasted but an instant longer, and then he turned to address the rest of the court, ignoring her. "Dear friends, please speak out now if I am mistaken in that I have just observed the defendant, without any sort of suggestion or provocation, abruptly begin speaking to people who are not here about things which make no sense. Perhaps she thinks all of us to be a dream, or a hallucination. Maybe she even imagines that she has escaped from the punishment for her conspiracy, and has been living here happily for several months, with Prince Nick returned to us. All this is no more than a dream of a bad memory to her. May I point out, dear friends, that people who suffer from madness are prone to such rash crimes as conspiring against appointed authority?"

"Honestly! How stupid do -" Yeesha stopped. She had thought, if she kept Daemon distracted by arguing with him, she could lock onto the magic he was using to manipulate this memory. But now that she'd had a minute to do that... she had looked everywhere, and there was no trace of any.

_Daemon isn't manipulating any of this. Come to think of it, it doesn't seem possible that he _could._ This isn't straight illusion; it's a manifestation of memory. The only way he could know what Varmo might say is by reading my mind. And yet, I know Varmo never said that. My mind is creating new dialogue for this scene. Why?_

"I hear no objections to my hypothesis from the people," Varmo said, whirling on her. "Do even you yourself have a proper objection? Perhaps in your madness you deny the memory of your crime?"

"That is nonsense..." She knew it was; she would never take deliberate action against Cypress, much less treason. Yet her voice came out small and weak. _Blast it! Varmo is a petty youth too insecure to tolerate a dissenting voice and too petty to see beyond his own ambition. Why should he make me feel so... small?_

"Even if so, the evidence all weighs against you."

"Evidence that is obviously arranged," she said, struggling to keep her voice above a mumble. Varmo's eyes were boring down on her as though she were an insect who had managed to become a grave inconvenience in the lives of superior beings. "My word is good enough to dismiss such a weak case..."

"_Your_ word? The word of a common servant?"

"That... there is nothing common about me," she said, her voice becoming stronger.

"Arrogance," Varmo snapped. "I challenge you to find a single person in this room who is so smugly self-assured of their own superior importance as you."

"I've never said that my importance is superior to everyone else's, and I have done more to prove my importance, my worth, than you ever have, with your hollow ambition. I stood up against Woldol's tyranny, and was a crucial part of the liberation force."

"But that's not what His Majesty would say, is it?" he demanded. "Surely he praises your worth now... to prime you to perform better in your tasks. But I think you will always remember that moment when he revealed that he knows as well as I do what you are: a common servant, exceptionally useful as a tool, but of no more intrinsic value than a beast of burden."

She remembered. The day she asked about the postponement of his coronation... "You forget your place, Yeesha." His eyes not angry, but hard. "Do so again, and it will be a public whipping." Yeesha bit her lip, trembling at the memory.

"How can you call yourself more than common when His Majesty himself has told you where your place is?"

"My heart is not ruled by Nick!" she yelled back in his face, her voice finally having regained its strength. "Yes, I love him! I admit it. I love him as my king, for his wisdom, his strength, and his compassion. And yes, I admit that I once loved him as a man. But I outgrew that years ago, and whatever my devotion to him, my sense of worth is not ruled by Nick, and it is certainly not ruled by you! However great your pride and intelligence, you are a petty youth who only belittles me because you are threatened by me. I won't let you, or Nick, make me feel small anymore."

Varmo just stood there, frozen in a silent stare. _My mind's controlling all this... and it can't think of anything more for him to say._

"Nor you, Daemon," she said, confident now. "This will be the last of my memories that I let you draw me into. Now -"

Reality splashed over her world like a douse of refreshing water. Daemon was leaping out of his chair, unhindered by the faded Bind spell. She barely managed to cast Shield before his level 3 Freeze spell tore into her. The Shield spell severely blunted most of the harm, but even so, she knew she could not allow him to attack again.

"Spark!" she cried, waving her hand to direct a sheer bolt of lightning into Daemon, cutting through him like a sword. Electricity burned and bellowed the air around the Iom wizard, leaving the stink of ozone.

In a moment, it was over, and Daemon fell dead at her feet.

----------------------

"Forgive my failure, Your Majesty," Yeesha said, lowering her head before him while a pair of servants bent down to take Daemon's body away.

"You defeated him," Nick returned. "That is a success, not a failure."

Yeesha shook her head. "You wanted him alive. If I had broken free of his illusions in time, or if I hadn't walked into that trap in the first place, that's how you would have had him. I didn't defeat Daemon... he had to release his control of the illusion spell in order to attack me."

"You did your best," he said firmly. "And you didn't let his illusions take hold of you. If you had, you would never have been able to defend yourself against his attack when the illusions shattered. It would have been good to get some information out of Daemon, but he is dead, and you are alive. Those last two things are what matter most."

"Thank you... Your Majesty." She dared to raise her head; after all, he was right.

"One thing about this confounds me: how well Daemon reconstructed my father. He knew King Gadrios, yes, but I'm his son, and if I didn't know better I'd have thought this 'ghost' was the real thing."

"It's a bit simpler than that, Your Majesty," Yeesha smiled. "What Daemon was doing wasn't creating a straightforward illusion, but tapping into your mind to make yourself believe you were seeing and hearing His Honored Majesty. That's why no one else could see his 'ghost'. The image just followed into what you imagined your father would say to you."

He nodded. "I see. It was all based on my own doubts and fears."

"Doubts?"

"Don't we all have a few?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, but..." She paused, and shook her head. _It's none of my business._ "I hope that yours are not too grave."

----------------------

"I don't think now is a good time for a festival," Nick answered as he began undressing. Mayfair knew what he did by the sound of cloth being rumpled; as always, she sat in bed through the procedure, deliberately looking away. At first it had been because she didn't want to see her friend naked anymore than she had to. It wasn't appropriate for their relationship, and though marriage required them to do things even more inappropriate, she wanted to hold on to Nick's friendship as best as she could.

That reason was still valid, but now there was another. She had never paid attention to people's appearances before, being ever conscious of the fact that they were little more than a disguise for the soul within, and that rarely was the package as beautiful as that which it held. But with her awakened sexuality, she could not but notice that Nick was very handsome. Though she hated to admit such weakness in herself, she knew that if she spent too long looking at him, she might come to enjoy regarding the package more than that which it held.

"I held one for my coronation to follow custom, and to serve our guests," Nick continued. "The people should understand that, but I doubt they will understand a spontaneous celebration of my good fortune while they continue to struggle."

"It isn't spontaneous," she replied. "It has been a year since you liberated Cypress from Woldol; that is something worth celebrating. Second, the people are hardly 'struggling' now." If anything, it was Nick who struggled. She could sense his exhaustion every time he laid down to sleep. She was no longer worried that his grueling devotion to Cypress would wear him down; he had allowed her to take some of the weight off his shoulders, and besides, his energy was almost beyond belief. But even if he suffered no long-term harm, she had no doubt that he never allowed his job to be easy. "You have ever been easing their burdens. If they do not appreciate all that you've been doing for them, then I have misjudged them beyond all accounting."

"...You know that I raised taxes?"

"You have the right to ask for a share of the wealth you provided the people, and I have no doubt that you mean to use those funds for greater things."

"Perhaps. But my father wouldn't have needed to raise taxes." Mayfair bit her tongue while Nick paused for a fierce yawn. "Very well, but there is one important correction. I did not liberate Cypress from Woldol; we did. You and I."

"Very flattering, Nick, but my role in defeating Woldol does not nearly compare with yours. If we give such credit to me, then it is also due to Gyan, Stock, Ruce, Luke..."

"I do not argue otherwise, but the people's happiness, and their enthusiasm for this festival, will be considerably greater if we give you one of the chief roles in Cypress's liberation. The nobles and those military leaders I've sent about the country have all been reporting that the people are even more pleased with my choice of queen than I had hoped. I do not know whether it is the work you did as priest before Woldol killed my father, the part you played in the Cypress resistance, your military leadership against Iom, or your general reputation for compassion and wisdom that is most responsible, but they adore you. And people love to see their heroes raised high."

Mayfair sighed. "You are their hero, Nick. Why do you keep denying that? It's not like you. The people love you, and I refuse to take the glory that is rightfully yours."

Nick yawned again. "We can discuss this tomorrow. I am ready for bed."

He snuffed out the candles, and Mayfair closed her eyes, waiting for him to crawl in beside her. A moment after he did, she felt his hand slip under her nightgown. She flinched, but he did not stop. Intellectually she could not blame him; after all, she almost always flinched at his touch. But she could not help but be irritated at his persistence, and think bitterly of how no matter how tired Nick seemed to be at night, he always had enough energy for sex.

She jerked away from him. "What are you doing?" she demanded. He gave no answer, and in the darkness she could not see his expression. "I'm already pregnant, remember?"

There was a moment of silence. Then a faint chuckle came from Nick. "I'm sorry, I... this is my first time doing this. Forgive my absentmindedness." He rolled over to his end of the bed.

It took a minute for the relief to truly hit her, but when it did, it was almost enough to make her laugh. She could now look forward to eight months without having to endure Nick's cold, unloving touch. That had not occurred to her until that moment.

Mayfair pulled the blankets tight around herself and settled in for the most blissful sleep she had enjoyed in weeks.


	25. Chapter 25: Questions of Location

- Chapter 25: Questions of Location -

Rohde sat against the wall of Natasha's room, by the door, darkness and silence all around him. They had offered him a bed, of course, but this was how he was accustomed to sleeping. Beds were for women, the rich, and the sick, and he was none of those.

A good thing he wasn't terribly fond of sleep, either; he had been awake for something close to a half hour now, and saw no hope of ever getting back to sleep. He might need rest for the coming day, naturally, but other than that he didn't mind being awake. Sitting perfectly still and watching Natasha's shadow and the blankets covering her faintly flicker with her rhythmic breathing was plenty to keep him occupied.

Something caught his eye: another shadow, above that of the one cast by Natasha and her bed. Even with all the time his eyes had had to adjust to the darkness, it was tricky to make out its shape, and at first he couldn't be sure that it wasn't just Natasha bending one of her legs in her sleep, or something. But after a moment he was able to discern that it was most definitely another human, and it was furtively reaching out one of its dark hands to Natasha.

His eyes darted around for some sort of a weapon, once again cursing the fact that they hadn't let him keep his axe. There was a vase filled with flowers, apparently provided by some of those Iomites grateful for what Natasha was doing for them, sitting on the nightstand a couple feet away. It was absolutely the only thing within easy reach that even vaguely resembled a weapon - no, Rohde remembered, there were a couple small utensils sitting on the nightstand too, but in the darkness he couldn't make one out well enough to grab it. The vase wasn't a proper weapon, but it could at least throw the creeping shadow which menaced Natasha off-guard long enough for Rohde to get his bare mitts on him.

He hopped up and to the left, seized the vase, and hurled it at the intruder. "Look alive, Natasha!"

Rohde expected the sound of the vase shattering. Instead, the vase was silently swallowed up by the creeping shadow. The only sound was Natasha leaping up to a sitting position and softly saying, "Blaze."

As the dwarf charged at the intruder, his expectations were broken a second time. Instead of striking the creeping shadow with her magic, Natasha quietly held her hand out before her, palm facing the ceiling, her little flame acting as a peaceful lamp to the room. Yet even in the light, the intruder seemed more like a creeping shadow than a normal sentient being, and it eluded Rohde's charge with equal slipperiness.

"Rohde, stop," Natasha said, forceful and faintly irritated, but calm. "It's just... it's just Dust. He's been looking after Deanna and I for months."

Rohde stared at the figure in black as it took the vase back to the nightstand and replaced it. The light of Natasha's spell showed a stream of water running over the floor, surrounded by a scattering of flowers. "Dust, there should be a candle in that drawer..."

Dust silently tossed it onto the bed. She picked it up and lit it, the new light allowing her to let the flames of her spell dissolve.

"Why in Iom's name didn't you tell me about him before?" Rohde demanded.

Natasha blushed. "I'm sorry... I just forgot. Dust, what are you doing in here anyway? Is something wrong?"

"What's wrong is he was trying to do something to you, Natasha! He came slinking in here, and he reached out to..." _To what? What exactly was he trying to do? _"...to touch you..."

"Where?"

"My lady -" Dust began to interject.

Rohde scratched his beard. "Around your middle somewhere..."

"Around my -" Natasha froze. Holding the candle steady with one hand, she reached down to touch her pregnant belly with the other. Then she looked back to Dust. "I thought I felt something there. You just wanted to feel her again, didn't you?"

Dust seemed frozen in place. "I swear to you, lady Natasha, by the name of Iom, and my Lord Hindel, that this is the first time I have intruded into your room for any reason besides your safety, and I equally swear that it will be the last. I will leave you to your rest now, with my sincere apologies."

One moment he was there; the next, he had slipped out the window.

Rohde looked at Natasha. "You trust him?"

"He... he saved Carla's life, Rohde." She was looking out the window. "I wish he had let us talk to him."

He didn't know what to think of that. "I'm sorry I spilled your flowers."

"It's okay. It was knowing that someone would give them to us that matters." She blew out the candle and lay back down. In the midst of the darkness he heard, "Thanks for trying to protect me, Rohde..."

----------------------

Deanna thanked the woman, and he and Yurligi turned to go on their way. Yurligi's race was rare enough, so she wore a thick hooded cloak to mask her features. The last thing they needed was to call attention to themselves. Of course, Deanna himself was somewhat well-known throughout Iom, but for both of them to go about with faces shadowed by cloaks would look more suspicious than anything. And thus far, Deanna had not been recognized.

"Well?" Deanna asked his companion after a few moments.

Yurligi shook her head.

"She wasn't... imprinted on her?"

"She was, but that does us no good," she sighed. "I explained this to you in the town where we met. Indirect imprints don't work well. We need to meet someone who knows where Aaron's heir is right now."

"I thought it wouldn't work there because the man was... was dead."

"Did you stop paying attention after that? I tried asking the people who had the deceased's imprint on them, but none of them knew where the next in line is, or seemed to be hiding any knowledge. I explained to you that some of them knew the next in line, but that -"

"I'm sorry." Deanna gently clasped her wrist; he could feel her trembling. "I know this is very trying. But I promise, I'm going to help you find your son."

"I... I simply don't think that my power can truly help your search." Her voice was choked. "I'm so worried... Can't we just go find Amelo now, I... I find this so tiresome, talking to all these strangers, trying to somehow imprint them on my empathetic vision, and... The more we do this, the more I realize how useless I am to you..."

"You're... you're not useless," he said, forcing his voice to be firm. "You've followed trails that I never would have been able to. They've been dead ones so far, but they still should be checked." There was a moment of silence, and a rather overdue suspicious thought entered into Deanna's naturally trusting mind. He looked to his companion. "Yurligi... the truth, now. You haven't been keeping information from me so that I'll give up on this search more quickly, have you?"

She started - not with alarm, it seemed to Deanna, but with confusion. "What? What are you...?"

"Lying about the limitations of your senses, or finding someone who knows where Aaron's heir is and not telling me... things like that," Deanna clarified. He stepped in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Please, the truth. Just confess you've been doing that, and I promise, we'll go straight to the shrine. I want to find Aaron's heir as soon as possible, but neither of us can get what we want if we can't trust each other."

"No, that's not..." Yurligi looked down. "I swear to you, I truly want to help. I'm grateful to you for helping me rescue my son, and I would never hinder your own search." She paused, and then lifted her head to look him in the eye. "I can feel how badly you want to find Iom's king."

"I... thank you." He took his hands off her, fidgeted a moment, and then turned once more to go on his way. "There's one other person in this village who we think has a connection to the one we're looking for. Are you alright with going to see him now, going back to the inn to rest until tomorrow, and then going to the shrine to find your son?"

"Of course."

The words were simple enough, and he wasn't looking at her face anymore, but the gratitude in her voice was easy to notice.

----------------------

Frecor came by the following day, looking pleased. It was a relief to see him, if for no other reason than that she appreciated the company; she felt rather awkward with Rohde, and Lady Anasta had not come by that morning. Dust, of course, never came by, much as she wished otherwise. She supposed she should be afraid of him after the incident the previous night, but it only made her heart go out to him all the more. And on the self-interested side, she liked company, even if Carla was sufficient most of the time.

"You're back," she smiled at Frecor. He was livelier than Jengh, too, and that made her extra glad of the company. She moved to get up from her seat, but he gestured for her to remain.

"Yep. Good news, too, of the best sort. I've gotten word that they've found the fifth person on the list of Aaron's heirs. He's being brought here, grounds of being a fugitive. No one but me knows that he's actually the possible heir to the throne."

Natasha put a hand to her belly as she came out of her seat, trying to contain her excitement. "You've found him? Deanna can come home to us?"

"Woah, woah now," Frecor returned, laughing slightly. "This isn't finished, pack and come home. Deanna still has to find the first three people on the list. We can't just crown the fifth person in line, all other claims forgotten."

"Oh." She felt foolish. "If we don't find the people who are higher up in the line, they could step forward later..."

"And then we'd have a bit of a mess, all but the best case. It might be different in Cypress, but Iom's just gone through a couple revolutions. Right now a king being crowned and then unseated could cause chaos."

"But at least now we know we'll have someone to crown, instead of Warderer's heir. As long as Jengh stops his coronation... this madness will be over." She looked to Rohde. "And then there won't be anything left for you to do for us, Rohde. Maybe you'd like to go with Jengh and his men?"

Rohde shook his head. "I'd rather stay here and make sure you're safe, Natasha. Would be terrible for you to die now that you've almost beaten the ones after you."

"Thank you..." She felt touched, and a little ashamed of herself. She knew she'd been right to keep Dust a secret from Rohde, so that just in case Rohde _did_ mean her harm, Dust could still protect her; Deanna would have wanted her to take precautions for her and Carla's lives. But in light of Rohde's obvious loyalty, she felt wretched for having done it. Even though, she reminded herself, she still couldn't be sure that Rohde wasn't mentally unstable enough to hurt Carla. Rohde was a violent person by nature. From what she'd seen, his sense of right and wrong was stronger than that violent nature, but she hadn't really seen much of Rohde.

Frecor cleared his throat and pulled something from his pocket. "By the way, this letter arrived for you."

She opened it up, and immediately recognized the handwriting. "It's from Deanna," she said aloud; having expected the awaited reply from Hal and Shim, she was rather caught off-guard. "Could I... read this in private?"

"Of course."

Frecor took his leave, Rohde wandered off down the halls with a bit of grumbling, and Natasha slowly sat down at the desk, holding a protective arm around her womb. "See, Carla? We've got a letter from your father. That means he's alright. He'll be here for you when you're ready to come out." Carla stirred, moving about in response. It still amazed Natasha that her daughter seemed to already have a vague understanding of her sentiments.

She began reading Deanna's letter. Her first reaction was, of course, a touch of relief that he wasn't writing because some ill had befallen him. That relief was tainted with dismay at reading that their first target had been found dead, though he tried to make light of it. But as she read on, warm pricklings rose in her heart at each line, and she came to the realization that she was reading a love letter. It was an entirely new experience to her; she and Deanna had almost always been together since the start of their courtship, and no one else had ever wooed her in earnest. She certainly never thought she might get her first love letter when six months pregnant.

She fell back in her chair with a sigh. "I should have told you before, Carla," she said, "...but your father is quite the charmer. Or maybe it's just that he really loves us that much..."

It was a full minute before she finished savoring the emotion of the moment and got back to reading. The news about Prince Amelo made her breath nearly stop. It wasn't shocking news in and of itself, but...

"It can't be," she gasped out. The timing of Amelo's abduction and the location to which he'd been taken both matched perfectly with what Brehen had said.

For a moment she thought she might be overreacting, that there were ways Brehen could have known about this without the gift of prophecy. Perhaps the high priest had located Amelo by some other means; Brehen hadn't necessarily told the truth about helping Leifo locate the boy. _But then how did Brehen know that Leifo would find him? What Deanna's talking about couldn't have happened before Brehen left the shrine. Amelo was well-hidden, and even if someone were to find him, it wouldn't necessarily be Leifo._

_Gods of light... He could be lying, his visions could be less than completely accurate... but there's no particularly good reason to think that his prophecy about our child is untrue._

She finished reading the letter, then gathered herself together and burst into the hall at a fast walk, holding a tense arm protectively over Carla so that she could move as quickly as possible. First she needed to catch Jengh before he left, and tell him what Deanna was doing. And then, she and Rohde would have a talk with Brehen.


	26. Chapter 26: Falling into Place

- Chapter 26: Falling into Place -

Nick drifted into a sort of half-consciousness for a few brief seconds as he tossed and turned. His father's words and image still waved themselves in front of his face.

_"You have no heart, Nicholas! It's your desire to pretend that you have one which is leading you into this foolishness."_

At last he came fully awake, abruptly sitting upright in bed. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, and calmly regarded how his legs were tangled up by the sheets. He freed himself and went to the wash basin to splash a small amount on his face. It hadn't been enough of a nightmare to leave him in a cold sweat, but it was enough to put him a bit on edge, and he wanted to soothe that.

He glanced ruefully at Mayfair, still sleeping soundly in her own bed. Nick tended not to believe in coincidence, and there were only two plausible reasons why, after months of blissful sleep, he should have nightmares twice in a row.

One was the unfamiliar bed. He had had it brought in, covertly of course, after Mayfair had refused to allow sexual intercourse during her pregnancy. Continuing to share a bed would not have been comfortable, and so he decided to move to a separate one. Mayfair had protested that she should be the one to switch beds, but he refused to allow his heir to rest on anything less than the royal bed.

The more likely cause for his insomnia was the absence of a release for his anxieties. Throughout his marriage, he had taken to soothing his mind of its worries by caressing Mayfair's soft skin, banishing the harshness of his responsibilities with her feminine curves, burying his doubts in the exhilarating warmth of her loins. He had come to rely on that reassurance.

_Apparently fate needed to remind me that to rely completely on anyone is a folly. I even anticipated this before marrying her. Mayfair, archbishop's daughter, considers sex only appropriate if it is an expression of love or a means of procreation. Yet I saw no reason why I might have difficulty with nine months of abstinence. A forgivable lack of foresight, but to then forget about those nine months is foolishness of the first order._

But exile from his marriage bed was not truly a problem. There were other methods of release for his anxieties. Some physical exercise should do it; chopping wood, perhaps. It couldn't compare with the pleasures of his wife's body, but it ought to be enough to drive away the nightmares and stress.

He stared in the mirror. The real problem was his father's words. _Or _my_ words, I should say. I can brush aside so much of what my father's ghost said, because it was simply what my father would have said. He and I are too different for me to follow his advice without question. But those words... "You have no heart..." I can't get them out of my head no matter how I try. It seems such a ridiculous claim, but it was my own self-doubt which said it. I question myself whether I really have compassion._

He squeezed his weary eyes shut. _I have to stop doubting myself. What was it Mayfair said... "You're not heartless; you just act like it"? Something like that. Even when I had not yet begun treating the people I use as anything more than tools to be used and then thrown aside, even when she thought I had used Deanna as a hostage, she believed I have a heart._

_...No. I can't rely on another person's judgment on my own character. Mayfair wanted to believe I love her, so she convinced herself that I did; what if she likewise convinced herself that I have an ounce of genuine compassion?_

Grinding his teeth, he whispered, "So long as I protect my people from suffering, what does it matter?" All he wanted was to help his people, to do his duty. He had known love once, and that was enough for him. What was gnawing at him was the fear that his very desire to prove his compassion was bringing him to folly... and that folly would lead to people suffering.

Nick looked behind him. Dawn light was beginning to poke through the windows. There was no sense in going back to sleep; he had at best two hours before he would need to get up, anyway. And right now, he wanted to see Barro very much. As always, he questioned himself why he wanted this, but for once he refused to search for the answer. He was too weary for self-analysis, and just once it would be nice to act on a perfectly harmless urge without questioning it. Without even bothering to change into anything more than his nightshirt, he found the door to Barro's room and pushed it open.

Gyan was sitting watch inside, and the sound of the door's opening made his eyes open to alertness. "Nick?"

Nick started at the Royal Protector's unexpected presence. "Didn't I tell you you don't need to do this now that Yeesha's taken care of the traitor?" he whispered while Barro turned in his sleep.

His friend grinned. "Nope."

He rubbed at the back of his head. "Bloody stress is making me forgetful..."

"Your father's ghost, right, Nick? Want to talk about it?"

_Why not?_ "Gyan... do you think I have a heart?"

Gyan gave him a blank look. "The biggest I've ever known."

He nodded. "Thank you. I'd like to be alone with Barro right now."

"What? Nick, I hardly think that qualifies as a conversation on the subject," Gyan chuckled. "Can't you be open with me on this?"

"I can, but there's no point." Nick gave a half smile. "Believe me, you've already said the most helpful thing you could possibly have to say about the matter. By its very definition, this problem is one that I have to solve myself."

Gyan got up. "You know, it's still nice to just talk things over with a friend."

"It's also very tiring. Perhaps on a day when I've had a good night's rest."

"Alright. One thing, though. I wanted to say... I'm very happy for you, Nick. Today - well, yesterday, technically... hearing you announce the conception of your heir..." He lowered his head. "There were times when I thought this day might never come."

Nick gave him a look. "You doubted my abilities?"

"I doubted that one man's ability would be enough." Gyan lifted an eyebrow at him. "You did, too. You're wiser than your father; you've realized that nothing is ever sure."

"If he could have survived his own death, he would have realized that, too," he remarked. "Now please, leave me with my cousin."

"As you wish, my king." He opened the door and stepped out, but before closing it he said, "Don't push yourself too hard, Nick."

_Not likely. My everyday duties are becoming increasingly routine, and my plan for resolving Cypress's issues with foreign relations is proceeding without a hitch. Strange that both Gyan and Mayfair should express concern in that direction. I suppose it's their responsibility, as friends._

He sat down on Barro's bed and laid a hand on his back. The boy stirred and looked up at him with round, calm, innocent eyes. "Hi, cousin Nicholas. What is it?"

Nick smiled. "Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you for a bit. Were you pretending to be asleep?"

"Unh-uh. I was dreaming about my new cousin. I've never met a new baby before."

"I'm sorry I woke you, then."

"'Sokay." He squirmed around to get an arm out from under his covers, and grasped Nick's wrist until he relented and clasped the boy's hand with his own. "I wish I could see you more, cousin Nicholas."

"You've seen a lot of me these past couple weeks, haven't you?"

"Yeah, a lot more than I used to, I guess. I'm not... not ungrateful, honest. But I still want to spend more time with you. You're always so happy, and... it feels like things are normal again when you're around."

"Thank you." He brushed a hand through Barro's hair. "I think things are becoming normal again. I've had the traitor taken care of, so tomorrow you can go play with some of the other young boys that have been moving into Castle Cypress. That's what you've been waiting for, hasn't it?"

Barro gave him a worried look. "What about Emild?"

Nick smiled, wondering how the boy had heard about that. "Don't worry. I'm dealing with them."

They talked on, mostly about the festival. It would bring people from all around Cypress, a notion which excited Barro's imagination. He prodded Nick for details on what sorts of festivities were being prepared, but Mayfair was the one making the arrangements and Nick hadn't discussed it with her. Barro said he was worried about her and how downhearted she seemed sometimes. Nick assured him that yes, he had noticed, and was concerned about it himself, and was attempting to uncover the reason for it. For some reason, the lie made him feel guilty, but he quickly stifled that feeling. What reason was there for this lie, save to spare Barro's feelings? If anything, his lying to Barro was evidence that he _did_ have a heart. And it wasn't entirely a lie; the possibility that Mayfair had fallen for him, however unlikely, did concern Nick. He had done nothing to earn her love, and she certainly did not deserve to have her love attached to a man who would not appreciate it. If true, it would be a great injustice.

Barro brought up, as well, that he was glad that Gyan wouldn't have to watch over him so much anymore. The boy had made his dislike for Gyan known before, and Nick decided to amuse him with a tale of an embarassment Gyan had suffered in his youth. He had nearly finished it when a knock came at the door.

"Nick?" Gyan called. "There's a messenger at your door."

"I'll see you later, Barro," he said softly, giving his cousin a brief, affectionate rub on his back.

"Goodbye, cousin Nicholas." Something about the boy's voice brought a slight ache to his heart, and Nick relished it. It was something of an effort to get back up and return to his room.

Once there, he finally changed into proper attire, and when he had confirmed by the mirror that his power and wisdom clearly resonated from his appearance, he moved to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Mayfair was still sleeping, which meant that it was still quite early in the morning.

He cleared his throat. "You may partially open the door, but do not enter."

The door cracked open. "I beg pardon for this... improper intruison, Your Majesty, especially at this early hour. But Princess Muriel has just arrived. What are your orders?"

King Nicholas considered for a moment; this early morning arrival was not expected. "She shall breakfast with us. Tend to her mounts and belongings as usual."

"Yes, Your Majesty. But... what if she has already had breakfast?"

"Tell her that she has found us in the middle of the meal, and much either join us or wait." The king was not very fond of these diplomatic games of catching one's associates in an embarrassing situation; the tactic struck him as pathetic. In this case, however, he was prepared to make an exception. If Muriel had come thinking she could take his hospitality for granted in such a crude manner as arriving scarcely after dawn, then he would gladly make her look even more discourteous than she'd already done for herself.

----------------------

"The important thing is to stick together," Deanna said, adjusting his cloak and glancing at the gate of the shrine. The four of them were standing in the courtyard by the statue of Iom. It was much smaller than the one which had stood in the way of the Cypress army rescuing Prince Nick, but impressive nonetheless. "Yurligi will guide us to her son. I've never been to this shrine before... Wallor, you say you know it?"

The healer nodded. "Yes. Pilgrimages of several people are not uncommon, so we won't look out of place. It's a popular shrine, though, so we'll have to be very careful taking Amelo out of here."

"Understood. That brings up our contingency plan. Yurligi, if they catch us, leave Amelo with me and run."

"But I -" she started.

"You can't do anything to help protect him. What you can do is escape, find the soldiers my wife sent from the capital, and lead them to Amelo. With any luck, the shrine guards will be distracted with trying to get Amelo back and fighting Lym, Wallor, and me, and won't notice you running away. It's the only chance for one of us to get away."

"Why should I be the one to escape? Why not you?"

"It's true that they're more likely to kill me than you if either of us are caught, and that you'll have to convince the soldiers from the capital of who you are," he nodded. "But I don't have the advantage of your empathetic senses, and more importantly, my face has been seen all over Iom. Once I'm spotted, I won't have much chance of escaping."

"But then... you trust me." She looked at him with mild wonder, and he could think of nothing to say. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Why does anyone trust anyone?"

Lym broke the moment with a snarl. "If you betray usss, I will perssssonally tear out your heart. That isss all you need know."

"Lym..." He gave her a warning look, then surveyed all three of his companions. "Remember, we have but two objectives in this place: rescuing Amelo, and discovering who is responsible for his abduction. Don't kill anyone unless we are caught; the soldiers from the capital will take care of whoever is behind this as soon as we get out. Also... we are in a sense defiling our god's temple by entering for something other than worship. We should ask his forgiveness before entering. Lym, did you procure sacrifices?"

"Ay." She held out a large rodent, still feebly squirming in her grasp. "Thisss for here, and a large bag of inssssects for when we enter."

They all knelt before the courtyard statue. "To Iom our masterful ruler, your servants offers you the blood of this humble beast. Accept our offering! Accept our sacrifice." The blood of the rodent was spilled, and seeped into the soil. The four joined hands in prayer.

_Iom, again I pray that you will look with mercy on me. I am acting to keep this people you have chosen from falling into chaos. If they crown Amelo king, all is lost. And they are still trying to kill Natasha, Carla, and me... I have to stop them. When I set off with the Cypress army to invade Iom, I promised to serve you faithfully for the rest of my life if you would keep Natasha, Eric, Dawn, Luke, Jaha, and Slade safe. You did not accept that vow; you tried to kill nearly all of them yourself. But you forgave my defiance, though I don't know why... maybe because of Hindel. So I know you must forgive what I do now._

_Hindel, if you are still in there, still part of Iom... I love you. I tell you that every time I pray, but I feel that with what you're going through if you are in there, you need to hear it every chance you get. I love you, and I'll always be grateful to you for giving me the chance to be happy with Natasha._

When they were finished, they stood and approached the gate of the shrine.

"Where?" Deanna asked Yurligi.

She closed her eyes a moment. "An underground level... on the east side of the shrine. I'll have to get closer to determine more than that."

They entered. The shrine was dismally dark inside, though there were torches at regular intervals to provide light. It was crowded, as Wallor had predicted, with worshipers of Iom in nearly every room and corridor. That surprised Deanna a bit, but in retrospect it seemed quite likely that many people had come to ask Iom's help in their current distress, the poverty and political limbo that had followed the war with Cypress. He kept his face out of the light, to avoid being recognized. Yurligi didn't seem compelled to do the same, though her eyes avoided those of passers-by.

This proximity to so many people who had come to worship Iom made Deanna uneasy; he had no illusions about how Iom's most fanatical followers would regard him for having fought the god himself. Of course, no one aside from his comrades in that battle knew that Iom had been actually revived at all, so his fear was plainly groundless. _Still... I know how devotion to Iom can make a person twisted and violent. Blind love for the power and death wielded by Iom is what created men like Warderer. That's something I'm probably right to be afraid of._

"The stairs to the lower levels are this way," Wallor directed.

They followed him to the passage and went down. On reaching the first underground level, Deanna prodded, "Yurligi?"

She shook her head. "Down further."

Deanna sighed. "Just as I thought. If this shrine is anything like the others I've known, all the levels below this one are restricted access. We'll have to find a priest to let us down there."

"Actually, this particular shrine has open access to the second underground level," Wallor spoke up. "If I were to guess, I'd say that the boy is being held in a secret room on that level. Unfortunately, I'm not quite sure where the stairs to it are."

"We'll try this way, then," Deanna said, relieved that they wouldn't have to coerce anyone to let them downstairs.

They moved on. The lower level wasn't nearly as well-frequented, for some reason; though the place was mostly large, wide-open rooms, Deanna couldn't see anyone around.

Suddenly he heard an angry hiss that made him want to do nothing more than run away and hide in a corner. Instead, the instincts he'd acquired over the past year compelled him to spin around. Lym's body was tensed in a snarl of rage, her clenched fist held as though she'd just struck someone. Wallor was flying away from her, and an instant later slapped against a wall. He heard Yurligi scream. Lym leapt at Wallor, far too quickly for Deanna to stop her... and that's when he saw the dagger buried in Lym's back.

The lizardwoman never reached her target; two arrows came out of nowhere to strike her. She fell just short of Wallor.

"Lym!" he cried out, and ran to her aid. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the archers step out from behind two pillars, a stream of guards flow in from the different entrances. _Set up, we were set up... Yurligi sounded just as shocked as me, so Wallor must have sent the Warderer loyalists a message; it's the only way they could have known. I was afraid of that, but how could I watch both him and Lym every single second?_ He instinctively tried to cast Egress, but for some reason it did not work. It felt like Dispell magic, and he wondered if that were Wallor's doing as well.

Anxiety tore at his heart, for Lym, Yurligi, Amelo, and himself... but most of all, for Natasha and Carla. _Frecor appointed Wallor, he's there with Natasha now... and my letter gives him just the excuse he needs to send Jengh away from Natasha!_

He helped Lym to her feet, gently removed the dagger from her back. As he placed an herb he'd brought along over the wound, tears ran down his face at the knowledge that he'd led her to this. "I'm sorry..."

She looked at him briefly, but he could not understand the expression in her reptilian eyes. Her focus almost immediately turned back to Wallor, who was applying his healing talents to himself. "Traitorssss mussst die!"

He caught her by the shoulder. "Lym, they'll kill you!"

"Death before capture!" she snarled, and charged again at Wallor. There were four guards in her way this time, and she eagerly tore into them, looking almost like a ravenous salamander scrambling over a mound of prey. If Deanna had ever doubted her boast that she was the fastest and most agile soldier in Jengh's ranks, he did not doubt it now. He only wished he could have seen it demonstrated in a more useful fight. Still, he had no choice now but to help her, and he dove into the fray himself.

There was no hope of Yurligi escaping; all the exits were blocked off by guards. He prayed, instead, that they would not harm her. It was a good hope; they had not killed her when they kidnapped Amelo.

An arrow pierced his sword arm. The pain was sharp, but he gave it little account. It was just the beginning of the enemy's superior numbers gradually bringing him down, something he realized was inevitable. Wallor kept on casting Aura, continuously undoing most of the damage he and Lym were doing. Deanna would have fought and overcome a hundred men if it meant getting safely back to Natasha, but even if he and Lym beat the hopeless odds in this room, even if they somehow made it out of the shrine, they would quickly be caught. There was simply no chance of victory here.

_No chance but the arrival of Jengh's men. And the chance that Dust will save Natasha and Carla from the trap set for them in the capital._

He carried the struggle on for a good while, but eventually they had him pinned. He felt bonds being wrapped around his wrists. Looking about himself, he saw Lym's lifeless body.

He knew he shouldn't feel guilty; Lym was a soldier, and she had died a soldier's death. And while there was no overlooking that trapping them was easier to do in this shrine than if they had simply continued searching for Aaron's heir, Wallor still would have betrayed them at one point or another. He had no way of knowing Wallor was a traitor... but in spite of all that, he could not stop thinking that if he'd done his job right, Lym would still be alive.

"Who'd have ever thought you would one day amount to so much trouble," he heard Wallor mutter.

Deanna glared up at him. "Why? Why this senseless bloodshed, just to keep a madman's bloodline on the throne?"

"Oh, I'm not interested in Warderer's line." He gestured at the guards. "They are, mind you, but I don't really care one way or the other who's king."

Deanna gritted his teeth. "You did... _this_... for money?"

Wallor gave him a curious look. "You still don't recognize me, do you? You really are one incredible son of a bitch. I thought that the second Frecor gave you my name, you'd tell him to hand me a dishonorable discharge. It almost killed me of shock when you actually accepted me for the mission."

Peering at him, Deanna murmured, "You do look... a bit familiar. But I don't -"

"You're unbelievable," Wallor said, with a slightly bitter laugh. "I was in your squad, until your brother transferred me. Suppose he didn't like the way I beat the shit out of you. I couldn't believe it when I heard what happened to you in Cypress; to think they made you a sergeant."

One of the guards cut in, "Wallor, we need to get moving here."

"Right," he nodded.

They yanked Deanna to his feet and moved along. He saw Yurligi being brought along as well. She was softly weeping.

"This woman just wants to be with her son," Deanna snapped at them.

"She will be," the same guard as before spoke. Presumably he was the leader, though they all wore the same uniform. "Our leaders have decided that if she wishes to be with the prince so badly, she should be with him."

_So long as she tells Amelo to do whatever they want him to, probably._ But Yurligi's cry of joy at the guard's words, tainted by anxiety for Deanna and Lym's fate, was moving enough that Deanna didn't have the heart to disillusion her.

Wallor said idly, "Still don't remember me, do you?"

"You killed Lym. That's all that matters," Deanna returned.

"She'd have been fine if you had just ordered a normal drink back at the tavern. A few drops of poison and that would have been it; I had no bone to pick with Lym."

"Your poison doesn't dissolve in cider?"

Wallor scowled. "I don't know, and I wasn't going to risk finding out. Just a bit of strange discoloration in your drink, and it wouldn't be hard to figure out I was trying to kill you." He turned to glare at Deanna. "You're just the perfect example of what happens when someone violates the law of the land. You couldn't protect yourself, but your brother wouldn't let you die as you deserved. So you got put in charge of the mission to Cypress, and because you were, your whole squad was wiped out. Some of those men were friends of mine, you damned incompetent."

"You have no idea what happened to my squad in Cypress. And that law is just an excuse."

"But that wasn't the end of it," Wallor went on, ignoring him. "Then you had to murder our king and throw this whole nation into chaos. And in spite of it all, people actually respect you. They _revere_ you, you spineless piece of refuse. I can't even imagine what more damage you would do if I hadn't stopped you."

"If your goal is just to kill me, why aren't I already dead?"

"Oh, they want you for something or other. They were rather vague on details, but they assure me that you'll soon be dead, regardless."

"Not before you," Deanna said. Seeing his smile, Wallor paled. "You killed Lym. You will die for that, I promise."

Deanna hoped that he would not guess at the real reason for his smile: It was clear to him now that Wallor had acted on his own, not under Frecor's orders. Natasha and Carla were safe.


	27. Chapter 27: Shame and Conscience

- Chapter 27: Shame and Conscience -

When Theo pushed aside the flap and stepped into the tent, Binuto was waiting for him with a grin, his head propped up on enough makeshift pillows that he could look him straight in the face. "I thought you'd be the one brave enough to come in here."

"Brave?" Theo echoed, puzzled, and doing his best to avoid staring at Bintuo's face without making it obvious that he was doing so. "What's to be afraid of?"

"Duh. Awkwardness." He traced his fingers over the scorched side of his face. "It can be real awkward talking with a guy who's had half his face burned off."

"Don't touch that," Theo said, advancing to Binuto's side. "You have to let that sit, or..."

"Or what? There was already permanent damage by the time Lana got to me. I heard Lady Sarah scolding her for running to you first."

Theo fidgeted with his hands. "So... you heard there could be a few scars..."

"That's the polite version. The accurate version is the whole right side of my face is going to look like it was left in an oven for a half hour." Binuto let out a laugh. "How about that? You're not going to be the ugliest person in our group anymore."

Theo's fidgeting increased, and he finally realized that the large rock behind him had probably been set there to be used as a seat. Setting himself down, he tried, "Look, I can see why you might hold me responsible for -"

"Sweet Cypress, you're spineless. You'd probably beg my forgiveness every day if I wanted, and for what? It's not your fault Lana ran to you before me. It's probably not even Lana's fault I'm like this - what was it, ten seconds that she delayed? And here's the mountain standing among the hills: I don't even care. This here -" - he jabbed his index finger into the ravaged side of his face, making Theo involuntarily wince - "...has no use for me anymore. It's just _there_. I've told you before, nothing matters, except maybe fighting for Cypress. And why should I care about looking pretty for my enemies?"

Theo didn't know what to say for a few moments. _It'd be so easy to believe him. But it wouldn't be fair. I know he acts so cold most of the time, but if he really didn't care about anything, he wouldn't have joined the Cypress army, and he wouldn't have followed us on this mission. He's either trying to keep me from feeling guilty, or he just doesn't want to talk about what he's going through. Either way, it'd be so easy to just drop it._

"You say nothing matters. But what about... Lana?" Binuto just looked back at him blankly. He swallowed. "I heard the two of you were talking, after you saved us from Dane's raiders. I thought maybe -"

"You thought wrong," Binuto answered. "We've barely said a word to each other."

"But just watching her, don't you think you'd like to know her better?"

"Not interested." He waved a hand. "The field's clear for you."

Theo frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Huh. Maybe I thought wrong, too." Theo didn't know what to make of that remark, and before he could come up with something else to say, Binuto went on, "Anyway, you just wanted to check that I was okay, right? Obviously I'm okay, so beat it."

"You'll be ready when we move out?"

"I'm ready now. The only reason I'm lying here is because Lady Sarah ordered me to. Now beat it."

"Are you sure you don't want any company?"

"You changed from entertainment to annoyance about ten seconds ago. Beat it."

"Sorry," Theo said, and cleared out of the tent. He wasn't the least bit afraid of Binuto(though he still wondered if maybe he should be), but he knew that an emphatic "leave me alone" wasn't something to ignore.

Dawn, Jaha, Lana, Halron, and Varmo were all waiting outside, most of them looking quite anxious.

Jaha spoke up first. "How's he doin'?"

Theo shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. He puts up a strong front, and he sounds like his usual self, but... I don't know."

"There is permanent damage," Dawn put in. "Lady Sarah already told us that."

"He says he doesn't mind. Maybe... maybe he doesn't. But..."

"He was hurt by putting himself on the line for us," Dawn filled in. "That's what matters."

Theo nodded. "And... after we..."

"Oh, for the love of Cypress!" Varmo exploded. "Don't you all realize that you're making an army out a farmer with a sickle? Binuto has done absolutely nothing to prove that he's not out to get Halron!"

"Varmo..." Halron said in a warning tone. Theo wondered if he was worried about Varmo's loss of temper, his saying things that Lana wasn't supposed to know, or his diplomatic misstep in vehemently attacking someone who the rest of the group was obviously sympathizing with. (It surprised him that that last possibility even entered his head; the scene somehow reminded him of Varmo's time in power at Castle Cypress.)

Whichever it was, Varmo didn't spare the beastman a glance, but went on in a calmer, more assured tone, "Let's give the facts a fair analysis, shall we? Binuto had no choice but to fight on our side. Even if he felt no compulsion to follow his duty as a soldier of Cypress, that's what he would have had to do to keep up appearances. He had no idea that he would be hurt. So we have no reason to trust him, and we certainly have no reason to feel guilty over such a minor wound, one that has caused purely cosmetic damage." He hefted his staff and gestured at Binuto's tent. "We have, in fact, very good reason to be even more suspicious. Does it not seem odd that a warrior of Binuto's skill managed to take a level 3 Blaze spell _directly on his face?_ Even a soldier of modest -"

"Varmo..." Lana said, trembling. "...shut up. Just shut up!" The last part was delivered with such fierceness and volume that Varmo jumped back a step.

"Look," Dawn said. "Obviously we're all a little on edge, so let's calm down and -"

"You don't do anything but stand back and lecture!" Lana continued to batter Varmo, ignoring her sergeant. "Binuto was hurt fighting to protect us while you... you were throwing out Spark spells without a care who they hit! So don't you dare say another word about how he's the bad guy in our group! Don't... you... dare!" She was coming to tears. Theo could only stand there awkwardly; he wanted to offer her some comfort, but in front of the others, anything he could do would probably just make things embarrassing.

Varmo folded his arms. "If this little outburst is what you would call a rebuttal of my argument -"

"Gods, you're so predictable!" she laughed, the tears still slowly running out of her eyes. "You won't listen to anyone else's feelings... you won't try to understand what they say... you won't even pretend that you have any respect for people who disagree with you! As soon as someone gets in your way, you just do one thing: try to make them look dumb in front of everyone else! Well, look around, Varmo. Does it look like anyone's listening to you? Does it look like anyone's impressed with the clever way you're putting down your own comrades?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Theo saw Jaha fold his arms. "It'd be nice if you had a little more respect, bud."

Theo didn't need Lana to convince him. He had taken Varmo's word on this because of Dawn; he trusted her. He had never trusted Varmo, though he had honestly not distrusted him either. It wasn't very difficult to believe that Varmo would distort the facts to make Binuto look bad. In light of what Binuto had just done, Varmo pushing this case now - whether it was to help Halron, or simply to further his own end of being a leader - was simply contemptable.

Even Halron didn't look very supportive of Varmo. He just stood there, looking at the ground. It wasn't like Halron to leave a friend in the lurch just to save his own skin; he had more spine than that. If he wouldn't stand up for Varmo, it had to be because he too had some moral objection.

"You know why it's been so hard to get people to follow you without the Iom army looming over us like a black cloud?" Lana jabbed his chest with her pointer finger. "Because no one likes you! Even Halron is only your friend because no one else would even give him a chance! No one likes your creepy, conniving, smug attitude, you... asshole!"

She spun on her heel and stormed off. For a moment, Theo just stood in admiration of how gracefully she'd done it. A big part of it was her natural beauty, of course, but her parents' gifts didn't cover the eloquent way she had told Varmo off, and the firm grace of her gestures must have come with practice.

Then, after what seemed an eternity of just standing there speechless in the midst of the group, Varmo muttered, "Excuse me," and wandered off.

And it hit Theo that Lana, given how upset she was, could use some comfort, and none of the others looked interested in providing it. He cleared his throat and said, "I'm going to go check to see if Lana's okay."

He jogged after her, and in short order found her sitting back against a rock. She looked up briefly to acknowledge him, then mumbled, "I hate this place. I'm all stiff from resting on rocks and lumpy earth, and I'm hungry. I know I'm a whiner, but I just..."

"It's okay," Theo said, sitting down beside her. "It's not what you're used to."

She looked at him briefly, but with a certain sweetness that made his heart do a funny beat. "Thanks." She scuffed at the ground with her foot. "I guess I shouldn't have lost my temper back there, huh?"

"Actually, I think Varmo got just what was coming to him. I saw Binuto, and... he didn't look good. No one deserves to have someone talking behind their back when they're in that condition."

"But it was my fault," she returned, shaking. "I did it again. I'm supposed to be the healer, but I lost my nerve again. First it was you... now I failed Binuto. And this time, it's too late to fix the damage. He'll have those scars the rest of his life, because of me."

"General Mayfair might be able to fix it when we come back. Lady Sarah's a great healer, but General Mayfair... she's done miracles. You remember Deanna?"

"Even if she does..."

"You can't keep blaming yourself," Theo said firmly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You're not used to combat - Varmo and I aren't, either. We're going to make mistakes. You even did better this time. I mean, you _saved Binuto's life_. Lady Sarah wasn't around this time, remember? If it weren't for you, he would have died."

"You really think... that I saved his life?" She didn't sound too hopeful.

"Not 'think', I know. I saw how bad that 'crimson scourge' hit his face. If you hadn't healed him..." He shrugged. "Binuto would have to be pretty ungrateful to complain about a couple scars."

"That's not the point." She reached across his lap, to the hand that wasn't on her shoulder, and clasped it. There was a moment's silence, and that moment struck Theo as so odd. What was Lana, the cool beauty maiden of Castle Cypress, doing in such an intimate position with _him_? Yet he could not deny that the position pleased him, made him feel... proud, somehow. "Theo... can you keep a secret?"

"Of course." He couldn't imagine even wanting to spill someone else's personal secrets.

Lana looked him in the eye, in a way that somehow felt even more intimate than her hand crossing his lap to rest in his. "This mistake... wasn't like last time. I didn't just hesitate because I'm not used to combat. I went to you first because I was afraid of Binuto." She smiled shyly. "I know you might hate me now... It was a pretty shameful thing to -"

"Hey, I was afraid of him, too. We all were." He gave a slight laugh, more out of nervousness at Lana's closeness than anything. "Even Varmo. Maybe this whole crusade against Binuto was just a plan to be leader again, but I think he really was afraid that he'd do something to Halron and him. And I just let all the circumstantial evidence against Binuto convince me... I didn't stop to think things through from his point of view. It wasn't fair to him. He has no friends, no family, no one to vouch for him no matter how innocent he is. We all just turned on him because of how cold-blooded he seems. Everyone but you." Theo looked at her with new respect, and she blushed in response. "You reached out to him. The others, they told me about it. You gave him a chance."

"It was nothing." She looked down. "Theo... I'm still afraid of Binuto."

Theo frowned. "Why? And then, why did you just defend him?"

"Varmo's a creep, okay? I guess I just made Binuto more of an angel than he is so I could slap him down. I can't find anything bad about Binuto, but... he's just... not right. There's something wrong with him."

"He lost his family."

"So did Sergeant Dawn, and there's nothing wrong with her. It's something else." She gripped his hand more tightly. "You'll... I mean, if Binuto does something... you'll protect me, won't you?"

"I..." He couldn't find an answer.

She was looking at him now. Sunlight layering her soft features. Gentle breath stirring her graceful body. And she was so very close.

"Excuse me," a voice interrupted. Theo was so startled that he spun his entire body around, jerking away from Lana, and nearly falling on his back. Dawn sighed. "I thought I might have a word with you, Theo. If you'll excuse us, Lana?"

Lana brushed her hair out of her face, suddenly looking like her usual cool, confident self again. "I'd like to stay and talk with Theo too."

"That was an order, Lana."

She shrugged and walked off. Dawn watched her leave, and Theo fidgeted nervously at being thus ignored. When Dawn finally reclined beside him, he instinctively straightened up against the rock.

"Have I been blind, or was that unusually subordinate of Lana?" she said.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah, I guess she's a bit on edge, after..." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the others.

Dawn briefly bit her lip. "He's right, you know."

Theo gave her a confused look. "Who?"

"Varmo. We really don't have any reason to trust Binuto yet."

"Don't you think we were wrong to distrust him in the first place?"

"No."

The simple, unyielding firmness with which she said that one word angered Theo. After staring at her for a moment, he exploded, "What evidence is there against him!?"

"Evidence?" she said sharply. "This isn't a trial. Binuto's a callous snake; that's reason enough to distrust him."

"That's not fair. Judging Binuto just by how hard he is to get along with is..."

"His likeableness isn't the issue. Varmo isn't the most likeable person in the world, but he at least has a basic belief in right and wrong. Binuto doesn't."

"You... you've got everything backwards!" Theo said, shooting to his feet. "You weren't there when Varmo was in charge of Castle Cypress. He would have done anything - anything - to make sure he stayed in charge! All you've got is intuition on Varmo. I've seen that he doesn't have any belief in right and wrong!"

Dawn considered for a moment, then shook her head. "If that were really the case, you wouldn't have trusted Varmo for even a moment about Binuto. You did; you agreed to keep an eye on him with the rest of us. That means you realize, whatever he's done, that Varmo can act on the side of right."

"Untrustworthy people sometimes do right, if it fits with what they want to do anyway. Besides, it's Binuto that matters, and you haven't got any evidence -"

"Evidence doesn't matter." Dawn got to her feet, giving a proud shake of her head. "Character is a far better measure of who to trust than circumstantial facts. That's why I didn't even need to ask what you and Lana were doing when I found you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged as she walked away. "If you don't know, don't worry about it."

Theo hesitated for a moment, then got to his feet and went after her. "Wait. I'm... I'm sorry I lost my temper. We're still friends, right?"

Dawn smiled. "I don't think we've ever been _friends_, Theo. But I have no problem with referring to us as friendly acquaintances."

"Thanks." He smiled hesitantly. "I just don't think it's fair to mistrust Binuto like this, especially after what he did in that battle."

"Don't you see what kind of person he is, Theo?" she sighed. "He's using his unfortunate circumstances to make you feel sorry for him, to excuse anything he does wrong."

"You're wrong," he shook his head. "You don't know him at all. If you'd just try talking to him for a few minutes, you'd... well, maybe you wouldn't see. But can't you understand why he is the way he is? He -"

"We're going to keep an eye on Binuto, Theo," Dawn interrupted. "And you're not going to say a word about it to him or Lana. That is an order. I'm not going to let Halron or Varmo get killed just because it's not 'fair' to take precautions against Binuto. Do you understand?"

"I..." He gave a half-hearted salute. "You're the sergeant. You better clear things with Jaha too, though."

Before she could reply, there was the sound of hooves trotting ever closer. Theo turned and saw a centaur wearing a rugged vest beneath his light coat of mail approach. He recognized him as one of their raider allies, but had not been introduced to him.

"Sergeant Dawn?" the centaur said.

"Yes. Grawler, isn't it?"

"Got it in one." He gave her an easy, confident grin and brushed his bangs back. "I wanted to talk to you, because... well, because I want to join your group."

----------------------

Varmo didn't stop wandering until he found an area with good vegetation. Once there, he sat on a fine bed of moss and leaned back against the smooth bark of the tree beside it, setting his staff down nearby. But the whole walk, one memory kept flashing through his mind: His aunt and cousins paraded through his hometown in ragged clothing, shivering in their stripped pelts, flinching at objects thrown at them. Then his aunt's gasp as a piece of moldy fruit struck her hard. The hurt, accusing faces of his cousins as they recognized him as the one who had thrown it.

And then Lana's words, _"...no one likes you!"_

He pulled his legs up to himself, hugging his knees. "Of course no one likes me," he retorted under his breath. "I'm not a nice person."

After all, that wasn't the point, was it? Leaders had to be respected and feared, not _liked_. Leaders as great as Gadrios and as petty as Woldol both exemplified this. They were not nice people. They were simply people who knew how to lead others. That was what he wanted to be.

"Everyone likes Jaha," he sneered. "Maybe he should lead you, then?"

He knew he shouldn't get so upset over Lana's comments, and he immediately felt bad for deriding Jaha, even though it was true that the dwarf wasn't terribly smart, and wasn't around to have his feelings hurt. The fact remained that Jaha had been a good follower, and had even supported him now and then, and was at least bright enough to defer to a good leader's authority. And to lose control of his emotions over something so small was inexcusable.

It was just that Lana's stupidity irritated him like nothing else. _The idea that my mistakes in battle, my being not liked, my... my way of attacking my fellow Cypressians when they get in the way of my goals... the very idea that any of that has anything to do with being a great leader is..._

He compulsively trembled, and hugged himself tighter. _Sweet Cypress, what is wrong with me? "Fellow Cypressians"? I never think of them like that! And feeling guilty over insulting Jaha... this just isn't like me. It's such an awful feeling. This whole experience of having to rely on a few others for my very survival, it's... confused me._

_It's not just that, either. They must rely on me as I rely on them, and of course I muck it up every time. It doesn't matter that Lana's a fool; she fights on my side, and I got her hurt. And damn it, I feel guilty about it. All this bloody anxiety about other people is -_

"There you are." Varmo looked up to see Halron, stepping over the greenery like a tiger moving through the jungle. "Had to actually track you down."

Varmo shrugged. "Unless we're leaving already, I can't imagine why you'd bother."

"Are you alright?" There was a blunt note of concern in his voice.

"I'm just thinking." He was silent for a long stretch, but Halron didn't take advantage of it. "Do you think that my campaign to be a leader is right?"

"You want to lead, don't you? Then I'm standing by you on that."

"It's not just about what I want, my friend. I believed I was the right person to lead. I thought that those with the will to take power should be those who hold it, and that I have that will. And that I would be better than the alternatives, like Woldol." He briefly paused, then amended, "I don't mean that Woldol is one of the alternatives, of course. I simply meant people who act in the same tasteless, reprehensible way he did. ...Am I wrong about all this?"

Halron sighed. "I really don't give much thought to the right and wrong of following a call to leadership..."

"Damn it, I'm not asking for a stinking treatise!" He thumped the ground impatiently with his heel. "I'm just asking for your opinion as my friend. Would I be a good leader, or not?"

His friend sighed again, and sat down in a random spot. A long silence passed. "I have my doubts," he admitted at last. "You're too insecure about yourself, for one thing. That's why you lashed out at Lana, isn't it?"

"What choice did I have? She was condemning my character, my abilities."

"There you have it." Halron showed him an open palm. "You're too insecure to let yourself be challenged. You don't give much thought to right and wrong, either."

"Thinking too much about right and wrong is insensible for anyone, and for leaders in particular," Varmo returned, unable to restrain a tone of disgust. "Most people who do become self-righteous and blind, and even if you don't, you're bound to get bad results from good intentions sooner or later. Ethics are simply a way to justify yourself." He shook his head. "Anyone can recognize evil. You don't need to think about right and wrong for that."

"Some evil is easily recognizable. In oneself... it's usually not so recognizable. Believe me, I know." Halron looked him in the eye. "I don't want to judge you. You're too hard to really judge, anyway. Think about this, though. You're a better leader than Woldol... but pretty much everyone vying for the position of a leader can say that."

"Wonderful. I've been following the wrong dream all this time." He rested his head wearily in his hands.

"Are you serious? I thought you wanted to be a leader for yourself, not out of magnanimity."

"Mag-what? Oh, never mind," he sighed. What was the use of building a good vocabulary without a future as a leader? "Yes, I want to be a leader for myself, but I thought I'd be making things better, or at least not making them worse. I don't want to be a black mark on Cypress." He trembled with quiet laughter. "I suppose the best I can... I can..." He snapped his fingers a few times in his struggle for the word. "...the best I can aspire to be is a second-rate soldier."

"Knock it off, Varmo," Halron growled. "It's good to hear that you have moral reservations, but you're whining again. Just for once, take your difficulties like a man."

"This isn't a 'difficulty'; it's the end," he said firmly. "I'm not going to be a leader."

"That's just what you said after His Majesty stripped you of your position. You're not giving up, not on this. If you can't be a leader without being morally and pragmatically better than the competition, then you'll work towards that, with or without my encouragement."

"No." Varmo shook his head. "Pragmatically, I might be able to improve. But morally? It's a simple, inescapable fact, my friend: I'm -"

"What?"

_I'm not a nice person._ But he couldn't _say_ that, not even to Halron. Obvious as the fact very likely was, the shame of it was too great. "Nothing."

----------------------

"Join?" Dawn echoed, her mind dazed. "You want to 'join our group'?"

"What's so puzzling about that?"

Dawn snorted. _As if he didn't know._ "One, you're a raider. Two, you aren't even from Cypress!"

"I didn't mean I want to enlist in your bloody army," Grawler laughed. "I just want to help out on this quest of yours. Making sure Lady Sarah lives long enough to get those agreements with Emild signed."

"And why would you want to do that?"

"It sounds more exciting than any of the action we get in these parts. Heh. ...Seriously, it's as bad for Emild as it is for Cypress if this negotiation doesn't work out. Your pal Jaha told me all about what's going on... how you think King Ian might be off his bloody rocker. Well, I want to see for myself. If he is that nuts, I want to stop him as badly as you probably do. This place is my home, you know. Besides, raiding's no good if the whole country falls into the mudhole."

"I see." It sounded believable enough. Both the words themselves, and the way he said them. But that alone wasn't conclusive. "And your boss is fine with this?"

"Haven't asked him yet. Wouldn't be wise to do that before I'm sure I've got a spot with you guys, would it? Dane might not look kindly on my wanting to leave them."

"I suppose that's so." She glanced at her companion. "Theo? What do you think?"

The human scratched the back of his head. "Well... I hate to mistrust anyone, but you _are_ a bandit."

Dawn nodded. "I'm afraid that's what it comes down to, Grawler."

Grawler looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment. "But... Dane and the rest of us, we're _honorable_ bandits. We... Hey, wait. I saved the life of one of your buddies, what's his name... Varmo! He'll vouch for me. Jaha, too." While Dawn was still struggling to process that information, he said, "Come on, you know you need an archer in your ranks. I'm bound to come in handy."

"Alright," she sighed. "We'll discuss it with Lady Sarah. But I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"That's all I ask, fair lady." In one smooth move, he took hold of her hand in a dignified manner and bent down to kiss it. In spite of herself, Dawn blushed fiercely, even as he withdrew.

Once he was out of hearing range, Theo asked, "So, what do you think?"

"A little hard to pin down just what he's all about," Dawn frowned. "I don't like that."

"Do you think..." Theo hesitated, then gave an awkward shrug. "You don't think he wants to join us just to court you, do you?"

"Doesn't seem likely," she replied coolly. With most people she'd be embarrassed at any reference to Grawler's parting gesture, but Theo was too good-natured to get any amusement out of the discomfort of others. "All that trouble just to woo a woman he doesn't even know? And now that I think of it, it's a lot of trouble just to get his hands on the gold of a traveling diplomat. No, the only reasonable explanation why he'd join us is the one he gave. And while I can't pin down what he's all about, I'd trust him a lot farther than I would Binuto."

----------------------

That evening, they all gathered around a campfire for dinner, with the notable exception of Binuto, and the notable addition of Grawler. Most of them had supported allowing the raider to join their little force, Lana and Binuto being the only dissenting voices. Theo had remarked that it was odd that he would want to join them, but Lady Sarah was unfazed by his doubt.

"Crusaders for good and justice tend to attract followers from all places and backgrounds," she had said. "If you don't believe me, just ask Sergeant Dawn and Jaha."

He was happy to accept that, and as a friendly gesture he sat next to Grawler while they roasted vegetables, skewered on long sticks, over the campfire. On Grawler's other side was Dawn, though of course it was his decision to sit next to her and not the other way around. Theo could feel a similar sort of discomfort, as he had Lana next to him. Lana was good company, of course, but he was getting the feeling that he was spending a little too much time with her, somehow.

"Binuto should be recovered enough for us to move on tomorrow morning," the Lady Sarah announced as she took her stick away from the fire and pulled off the vegetables. "We're a day and a half's march from Emild's capital. With a little extra push, I believe we can make it there by noon the day after tomorrow. That will put us safely within castle walls before the Blue Dragons can catch us."

They all just nodded in reply and quietly ate their dinner. The Lady Sarah had a presence of cold authority which discouraged conversation, and she didn't seem to mind not being privy to their youthful chatter.

It was when dinner was finished, Claude had left to stand watch, and the Lady Sarah had gone to bed, that an atmosphere conducive to conversation arrived. Halron spoke up, "I think we should... settle our differences, after that scene earlier. Some of you have no doubt already decided to close your ears to Varmo, but as his friend, I can tell you that he's been under a lot of pressure. This situation has been harder for him to adjust to than most of you. And I... I think he has something to say to you all."

Theo felt he was not the only one staring at Halron. That was surely the lengthiest public speech the beastman had ever made.

Varmo cleared his throat, and Theo turned to see what looked like genuine shame on his face. Of course, Varmo might just be a good actor. "I... want to apologize for my behavior earlier. I consider Binuto a threat to my friend, and in my concern for him I read any sympathy for Binuto as a threat to him as well. I acted with unfriendliness to you, my comrades, and I apologize for that.

"But I also maintain that Binuto very likely joined us just to get revenge on Halron. I would have kept this to myself after my outburst earlier, but Sergeant Dawn approached me and told me that she shares my suspicions. So I cannot dismiss them as 'just me'. In fact, against Sergeant Dawn's misgivings, I think we should share this discussion with Lana and Grawler. Maybe it's not the sensible thing to do, but I think we should have trust among the lot of us. If we don't all stand together, we could be killed if... if King Ian welcomes us with hostility. I'm not asking any of you to be hostile to Binuto, or cold shoulder him, or anything like that. It's a simple matter of watching for suspicious moves and telling the rest of us before it becomes something worse."

At several points in Varmo's speech, others in the group looked as though they wanted to interject, but Halron silenced them with a glare.

As he finished, however, Theo put in, "So you want trust among all of us, except Binuto."

"Trust among all of us who the Lady Sarah approved as members of this force," Varmo pointed out. "Binuto discarded his trustworthiness when he abandoned his post at Castle Cypress."

Lana scooted forward, managing grace in even that crude movement. "You always talk smooth, Varmo, but you already fooled me once, when His Majesty and General Mayfair were in Iom. I'm not being fooled again."

"I understand what you're thinking," Halron spoke up. "But Varmo has changed a lot since His Majesty discharged him from his leadership."

"You _don't_ have to stick up for him," she said to Halron, coolly ignoring Varmo now. "You've proved you're a true warrior of Cypress. You're part of a group now. You don't need _his_ friendship."

"Maybe not. All of you..." -he looked over Lana, Jaha, and Dawn, but his eyes just barely touched Theo- "...you've all accepted me, even though I never made a point of reaching out to anyone. I... appreciate that."

It was hard to tell, but Theo thought he sensed a little embarrassment in Halron at this confession. Something personal he forced himself to say aloud, to a crowd of peers, out of gratitude for Lana's words. It made Theo feel warm inside to see the once cold and isolated beastman show such profound friendliness, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a bit hurt that his own attempts to reach Halron had made no difference, and that he still was so plainly not counted as a friend.

"But even if I don't need Varmo, he's still my friend," Halron continued. "He treated me as a friend. It doesn't matter why he did; all that matters is he did. This is the same thing. It doesn't matter why he's asking us to be wary of Binuto; all that matters is that he's _right_. Binuto is most likely to threaten me, but any of you could be used to further that end, too. My saying that doesn't mean much, but I think all of you already know it. Dislike Varmo if you wish, but don't ignore his wisdom out of spite."

"Forget this," Lana said, and stood up. "You don't have to worry about me saying anything to Binuto, but I'm not being a part of another of Varmo's scams. You all can sit there and conspire if you want. I'm going to bed."

No one else said anything until she was gone.

Grawler broke the silence with a brief chuckle and a broad grin. "Man! Being in this little group is interesting already!"

"I think I understand now," Varmo said, as if Grawler had not made a sound. He looked at the ground. "Once trust is broken, even the simple trust in a leader, it can't be fixed. So I suppose you'll be joining Lana... Theo, Jaha?"

"Hey, you kiddin', bud? You apologized. I don't stick my nose up at apologies."

Theo shrugged, and looked to Dawn. "That's up to our sergeant."

"And I've already given my answer," Dawn said. "We're defending Halron."

Grawler spoke up, "And if I heard right, I'm part of this too, right? I don't completely understand what this is about, but I've gotten used to... helping out the others in my group."

"Your boss had no problem with your joining us?"

"Oh, he wasn't happy, fair lady. But he's willing to let me go where I choose."

"Then I suppose you're part of this, aren't you?" Dawn said flatly.

----------------------

Claude slowed his wings, settling for a glide over the camp. He could still spot them around the campfire, sharing each other's company.

He could tell them.

It would be a senseless gesture, he knew. Even with full knowledge of what was going to happen, Lady Sarah and her escort would have no choice but to do as they had been ordered or become traitors to Cypress.

But most of them were scarcely more than children. He had been fighting for so long to keep children safe. On reflection, it had been only a year and a half, but it seemed so endless. Conflict after conflict. Threat after threat to the innocent of Cypress. And now he was willingly herding some of those innocents to what could be their deaths.

He wanted so badly to tell them. It felt wrong not to, and not even his sense of duty could convince him otherwise.

However, King Nicholas could. He had ordered this. Though Claude would have defied every king from Warderer to Gadrios to keep these children safe, he trusted Nick's word beyond doubt.

And so he continued to soar above it all, in silence.


	28. Chapter 28: Entertaining Guests

Author's notes: Welcome, loyal readers, to the three jaw-dropping final chapters of Part 2! If you read my profile page you've known this for a while already, but this massive update is sort of a final treat before Hope for the Nations goes on hiatus for two months. Next month, I'll be bringing a change of pace in the form of a short story in the realm of Shining Force II. But keep this fic on your alert lists, as two months from now we begin Part 3, the concluding act of this novel. Until then, I sincerely hope you all enjoy these three chapters! I worked hard on 'em, ya know.

- Chapter 28: Entertaining Guests -

"I am most pleased that you could accomodate me, Your Majesty," Princess Muriel said as she swept into the room.

Nick didn't immediately reply; he was too busy gawking. Muriel's attire was perfectly modest, but also perfectly fitting to her admirable figure. It wasn't completely snug, but her shape was clear enough, and the cut revealed just enough of her flawless skin to make her full beauty apparent. Her hair was in a very simple cut, no doubt because of her journey, but the way it fell across her shoulders was lovely nonetheless. One might say she had the supreme beauty of a true fairy tale princess, but that description fell far short of her reality, to Nick's mind.

When he remembered that he wasn't supposed to simply stand there and stare, Nick managed to get out, "Not as pleased as I am, my lady, for the same reason." He sat down before his breakfast. "Of course, I am afraid that we do not have much at hand to feed your escort..."

"They shall quite happily settle for the provisions we brought with us, as they have been," she smiled, seating herself after him. "If you will forgive my forwardness, I have long wished to meet with you in such an informal atmosphere."

The motion of her sitting down was so graceful that Nick felt every muscle in his body tighten up, as though to prevent himself from doing anything foolish. "Ah. That would explain the timing of your arrival."

Muriel's cheeks colored most becomingly. "I had hoped you might not bring that matter up, Your Majesty."

Nick impulsively looked down and bit his lip in humiliation; in trying to embarrass her, he'd embarrassed himself. _Dammit! What's wrong with me? Muriel is a beautiful woman, yes, but she's never had this effect on me before, and this certainly isn't the first time she's worn such stunning attire. Why now?_

"If I have offended -" Muriel began, and Nick realized to his alarm that he should have responded to her last comment.

"I didn't mean to bring it up as a topic of discussion," Nick said with a smile. He had to force it to remain on his face when it dawned on him that, horrifyingly, he had interrupted her. "But as I should have mentioned in one of my letters to you, during Cypress's internal struggles, I often paid visits at unusual hours, for various reasons. For someone to do the same with me is... a sort of justice, one might say. Every person should have the chance to be on the receiving end of their own actions."

It was a load of borderline nonsense, though it at least succeeded in making light of Muriel's offense. He was becoming ever more grateful that no one was present but Muriel, her aide, and himself.

"An interesting way of looking at things," Muriel remarked, leaning forward slightly, her dress shifting gracefully along with her lovely body. _Gods of light, is she doing this deliberately? _"You never fail to intrigue me, Nicholas. Is this philosophy one you've always held, or did a particular action of someone convince you of it?"

"I'd hardly call it a philosophy; I don't act upon it, after all. There's no point in doing so." He shifted uncomfortably, and tried focusing on her eyes. "But perhaps it was the experience of love that put that thought in my head. In my view, it is not only kind that he who loves should also be loved, and that he who is loved should also love, it is also fitting that one should experience both the giving and receiving of love. And certainly he who does not love should not be loved either."

"I would not have thought anyone could truly fit that last description."

There was a pause. "I must confess that I believe that I fit it. I loved in the past, of course, but I do not now, and can easily imagine that someone might be like I am now from birth to death. I find it hard to believe that Woldol ever loved anyone, for instance."

"Perhaps." She seemed to be considering that new thought. "But you? If you believe that you do not love... then by what you said, you must also believe that you should not be loved."

"Of course. To love a loveless creature is a fate I should not wish on anyone." In his tone he affected to have a waning interest in the subject, giving him the excuse to turn his eyes off of her and focus on putting down the meal on his plate.

"Yet you would still consider being loved... desireable, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I consider it desireable. But it is a comfort I willingly do without, for the sake of those who are a part of my personal life." He took in a warm mouthful of hash. "On a more important subject, I would like to know how matters are in the court of Sharland."

"As pleasant as ever, Your Majesty - only a bit dull." She brushed aside a lovely lock of hair. "I have been hoping my grey world will be brightened with news of you and your... dutiful wife."

The insult to Mayfair - deliberately calling her not charming or beautiful or astute, but "dutiful", a word that indicated no more than passable quality as a wife - was startling less for the fact of it than the lack of subtlety. It was almost a challenge. Yet strictly speaking, she had not said anything against Mayfair, and Nick chose not to take the bait.

"There is interesting news there, at that. The queen has conceived a child." Nick thought he saw her freeze for an instant, but had to admit that from across the table, it was hard to tell. "We announced it just yesterday. Your visit, you might say, falls at a very fortunate time."

"You must be very proud. Congratulations." She stabbed a piece of food on her plate, then added, "And so quickly after your wedding! You must be very fond of your wife."

"Then it could not possibly be that I am effective at procreation?"

Muriel blushed deeply, and Nick felt a little relief at her being the one caught in a misstep for once. "I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty. I did not mean to imply that. I only hoped to find more in your marriage than mere duty, something of a romance."

Nick chuckled. "Your desires are very predictable, my lady; I confess that I find that charming."

"Oh no, my desires do not always run chiefly on those lines, Nicholas. Less than half the time, in fact. It is just that you and your wife strike me as a compelling match - a seeming mis-match, if I may be so bold as to say so."

"Quite an understandable way of seeing us." He was holding his ground better, but sweat was rising to the surface of his skin. This had to end. "In response to your essential question, yes, I am rather fond of my wife. But you won't find anything romantic between us, I'm afraid."

"A shame."

Before she could move on to a different subject, Nick stuffed the last of his breakfast down and stood up. "You must excuse me now, my lady Muriel. I have several important duties that I had arranged to attend to this morning, since I did not expect you at this precise hour. Moreover, my Minister of Decorum is... indisposed today. I'm afraid the best I can arrange for you is Lieutenant Geoffrey."

"What of Lady Sarah?"

"On a mission to Emild."

"Your wife, then?"

"If I find her, I'll ask her if she has the time." He bowed his head. "If not, I shall return to you as soon as possible. For now, farewell, my lady."

He passed out the dining room doors, and found Gyan waiting outside.

"What was that all about, Nick?" Gyan asked, scratching behind his ear. "'Several important duties'? I thought you said all you had left that needed taking care of was routine stuff."

He gave a relieved sigh. "I needed an excuse to get away from her for a while."

"Pardon? What for?"

"Didn't you see, and hear...?" He should have; part of Gyan's job was spying on informal meetings like that one.

"That slight she threw at Mayfair?" Gyan frowned. "It wasn't very friendly, but you can't let yourself get all riled up over one little thing like that."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Nick said impatiently. He led them to an abandoned room and, once inside, closed the door behind them. "Didn't I seem unusually awkward, clumsy, and witless to you?"

Gyan considered, then shook his head. "You handled yourself quite well, I think."

That made him feel a little better. "Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought."

"Or maybe you're making something out of nothing. You're used to being completely in control, all the time; any sort of emotion or accident is bound to look catastrophic by comparison. What was the problem, anyway?"

Nick hesitated a moment, then decided that with Gyan, there was no point in being delicate. "For some reason, I found myself strongly desiring Muriel."

"Haven't you always gotten that sort of feeling around her?"

"No." He shook his head. "Nothing like... I don't get that way around women, Gyan. I've felt desire sometimes, but with a few exceptions, it's always distant, like I can reach out and grasp it or just let it go. I've never before been so unnerved that I could scarcely think with my brain instead of my reproductive instinct."

"Hmm." Gyan gnawed on his index finger in a way that made Nick wonder if he wasn't struggling to keep from laughing at the whole situation. "Could it have something to do with the change in your sleeping arrangments?"

_Gods... of course._ "I hadn't thought of that. It seems likely, but... if that's the reason, why don't I get that way around Mayfair?"

Gyan raised an eyebrow. "You think Mayfair's as attractive as Muriel?"

"Of course not. But she's my wife, so I know what it's like to... to bed her. It would seem that past experience would spark my imagination when -" He shook his head. "Never mind. I just need to get some exercise, something to take my mind off of Muriel for a while. I should be fine around her after that. Lust is a fleeting thing."

"If you say so. So, any idea what Muriel's game is yet?"

Nick shook his head. "She'll tip her hand sooner or later. We just need to be ready."

----------------------

Receiving the letter from Natasha was by far the most wonderful thing to happen to Mayfair in months.

The past few days she had felt herself coming out of her depressed state, relieved from much of her emotional distress by having a bed separate from Nick, and invigorated in her zest for doing good by the preparations for the festival. It gave her an excuse to interact with the youth squads again, and though she was disheartened to be informed of Binuto's desertion, their enthusiasm for the event was cheering. As she met with local leaders and assigned organization roles, she became more and more convinced that the festival was not a burden on the common people, as Nick had feared, but a relief from their tedium and a restoration of the joyful spirit they had known before Woldol. She was already shedding her emotional torment and rediscovering her love for organization and charity. To receive a letter from dear, long-absent Natasha was nonetheless an unexpected joy.

She read it eagerly, and was pleased by most of what she found inside. The news of the threats to Natasha and Deanna's lives was not pleasant to read, of course, but she had expected that danger and was relieved that they were at least aware of it, and were protecting themselves. She was glad that Natasha was making new friends, and from the sound of things, the work she and Deanna were doing in Iom could only reduce the worship of its mad god and improve relations with Cypress. And the loveless way she had conceived her own child felt reduced, countered by the fact that Natasha had been carrying her own since before Nick had even proposed. Yet most wonderful of all was the whole tone of the letter; Natasha's obvious joy and enthusiasm was greater than she had shown in her brightest moments at Castle Cypress. Mayfair was unreservedly happy for her, and vain though it might be, a little proud of the part she had played in her happiness.

So of course, Nick had to sour it for her, if only a little.

Though Natasha's letter was addressed solely to her, it was nonetheless her duty to at least inform Nick of the information it gave on the state of Iom. Besides, he had been friends with Natasha, so it only seemed fair to share with him some of what she had been up to. She found him on the training grounds outside, practicing his swordsmanship.

"Splendid news," he said after she had related the pertinent parts. "Richard has tried dealing with Sir Edwin, but the man refuses to make any permanent decisions in Iom's affairs, which makes it not even worth broaching the matter of the lands we've annexed from them. With Deanna and Natasha so influentially installed in the capital, however, we have a chance of bending him to make a deal." He once more hefted his wooden sword and, giving the nod to his opponent, resumed the practice fight. "Deanna being temporarily out of the way is veritably a sign of the gods' favor. Where he might oppose my will in Iom, Natasha will not." He grunted as his sword clashed hard with his opponent's. "We should send Richard to negotiate the territorial acquisition at once."

Mayfair watched the king with some curiousity. She had not seen him practice sparring more than twice before, but he seemed to be putting an inordinate amount of energy into it. "You don't think it utterly contemptable to take advantage of your friendship with Natasha, to say nothing of seizing Iom's assets while they are wounded and struggling?"

"I allowed Natasha to abandon her post here and go over to a rival nation. I owe her nothing now," he returned. "And those lands are worthless to Iom while they are 'wounded', as you put it. They are too thinly settled and too remote from the capital for them to manage. That is why we arranged for their annexation; we wouldn't want to take anything from Iom that they might war with us over for years to come. We're practically doing Iom a favor by taking those lands from them."

"A 'favor' that will give us almost immediate gains in arable land, taxable citizens, and the diplomatic clout of having made a territorial gain from our enemies, while doing nothing for Iom but taking away what is in the long run a valuable part of their nation," she retorted.

Nick seemed to lose his concentration, and his opponent caught him with a stroke in the chest. The king gave an irritated wave of the hand and again stepped back from his opponent, this time focusing his whole attention on Mayfair. "Need I remind you that my job is the good of Cypress, not Iom?" he said with impatience.

"I appreciate that, my king. But some compassion for the Iomites, some slight hesitation over what you plan to do to them, would only do you credit."

"The Iomites? Kindly be honest, my queen. You are concerned for Natasha, and perhaps for Deanna; no one else."

_Isn't that enough?_ "You are making Natasha into a traitor to the place she now calls home."

"Only in the loosest sense. It is still Edwin who makes the decisions, or if we wait for Deanna's return, Iom's new king - some inexperienced pup who won't know his job, most likely. If he takes her advice, that hardly makes her the traitor. Besides, as I said, those lands are not valuable to Iom."

"To give that advice is still Natasha's decision. Don't you see the position you're putting her in?"

"Yes. But those lands will be Cypress's in the end; there is no question of that. The Iomites might be too stubborn to accept that, but I trust they'll be wise enough to understand Natasha's decision once it's been made. And it is better if we take this opportunity now, rather than wait for Iom to rally themselves to a drawn-out diplomatic fight over it. It's for the good of Cypress."

Mayfair hesitated a second, then simply nodded.

""Do you have an objection to any of that... perhaps some reason to believe my assumptions are wrong?" he prodded.

"No. You're right; we should send Richard immediately." She had felt that was probably the best course from the start, in truth. What irked her into arguing, as opposed to simply questioning, was the fact that Nick's immediate response to such a friendly letter was to take advantage from it.

He nodded. "Thank you for your understanding, and your honesty." Then he stepped up to her, and bent his head down for a kiss.

It was a surprisingly chaste kiss, just a brief press of his lips against hers. And it was obvious why he did it at all: his sparring opponent, as well as anyone else on the grounds, could not have failed to overlook that they were having an argument, and reassurance that they were a "happy couple" was necessary. It was just a part of their charade. In spite of that, her legs suddenly felt weak. Despite the strong reasons her heart had for not yielding to Nick, the animal allure he seemed to have over her remained potent. And she was oddly attracted to the gentle familiarity with which he kissed, as though they had been married for 20 years instead of only two months.

Thankfully, it was over in a moment. "I need to get back to entertaining our guest," Nick said. "Unless you would be so kind as to take that task off my hands?"

"I'm afraid not. We both know I'm a poor host in comparison to you, and besides, I have work to do to prepare for the festival."

It felt like all she needed to say. Watching Nick go, however, she began to wonder why he was reluctant to tend to Princess Muriel.


	29. Chapter 29: see inside for title

- Chapter 29: Handling Spontaneous Diplomatic Visits -

The day's trek was hard, harder than the Lady Sarah's statement of her plan had prepared them for. For the whole of the day, each of the Cypress guards alternated between endless tramping on swiftly wearying feet and jarring rides in the wagon, each bump in the path rocking their bodies and knocking the hard wood of the seats in repeated blows against their hindquarters.

The centaurs were the partial exception, of course, though even they eventually tired of the hard pace. Varmo noted this during his rounds outside. He almost wished he could stay outside himself, despite the fact that such forced, tiresome trudging seemed an insult to his dignity. The fact was, things were still more uncomfortable inside.

This had mainly to do with Binuto. For the first time, the lot of them had the displeasure of his company on the wagon ride, and that alone was enough for Varmo to yearn a bit for walking the thrice-damned road. To make things worse, Binuto now had a disfigured face, and made absolutely no effort to cover up the injured half, or even keep it in the shadows. Not even the way Lana cringed in disgust and horror at the sight fazed him in the least.

Even when Binuto was outside the wagon, Varmo kept silent. Though the plan Halron had suggested(an apology, followed by a gentle appeal for mutual trust) seemed to have worked well enough on the others, Varmo still had his doubts about being a leader. Even as far as his plan to deal with Binuto went, he wasn't confident. While the others didn't trust Binuto, they no longer actually distrusted him. Varmo could read the attitudes of a mob, and this one was no longer against Binuto. That meant they might greet supposed evidence of wrongdoing on the callous human's part with suspicion. Certainly Lana and Theo would. A frame-up was therefore out of the question, which meant that by the time Binuto's evil intentions were confirmed, it might well be too late.

This was especially troubling when he began to consider it from Binuto's position. He had no opportunity to do anything while they were on the road, with the other guards constantly on the watch. But once within Emild's castle walls, they would all inevitably lower their guards a bit. Even Varmo himself would probably be too relieved at seeing a proper bed again to remain constantly wary. That gave Binuto opportunity.

_If I were in his shoes, I'd see if this King Ian is as paranoid as His Majesty suspects, and if he is, kill off an Emild guard and set up Halron for the blame. ...Except, of course, that that might result in Emild declaring war on Cypress. And of course, given that Binuto seems to have deserted his post at Castle Cypress to exact revenge on a fellow soldier of Cypress, I think it's safe to say that Binuto's sense of duty is at least somewhat less binding than mine._

_Once we step into those castle walls, it's not just Halron's life that's at stake. It's all of Cypress._

----------------------

Dawn had to admit, Grawler was already proving his usefulness. No doubt due to his experience as a bandit, Grawler seemed every bit as adept a scout as Halron. Perhaps more so; Dawn wasn't one to judge. More importantly, he knew the lands of Emild, and was able to set a much easier path for them than they would have been able to figure out on their own. He stayed focused on his task, as well, which was a relief. Perhaps it was vain to even think it, but she had been a bit worried that he might spend most of his time furthering his advances towards her.

_Most likely he was just playing around yesterday_, she reflected. _I shouldn't have paid any attention to Theo's remark. That young man doesn't even realize when he's being mocked a healthy percentage of the time._

She turned those thoughts aside. Their mission was more important.

She felt confident that Natasha would have done no differently with regard to Binuto than she had; it was natural to be suspicious of the human's forcing his way into their party, and she could not allow her teammates to be at risk.

_Then again, Natasha probably would have dealt with the problem differently. Didn't Lana call it "conspiring"? She's not totally wrong about that. Not the sort of thing Natasha would have done. Especially since it's so passive... I've been thinking, and I'm sure Varmo has too, that Binuto might get his revenge by betraying us to King Ian. If all of us are in danger, there has to be something better than watching and waiting for Binuto to make his move._

_Being betrayed to Emild is unlikely, though. Binuto has committed desertion, and if our suspicions are at all justified, he plans murder as well. But there's a massive difference between those things and high treason. We have no reason to think Binuto would go that far._

Still, she knew Natasha would be ashamed of her. If not of the plan itself, at least of the way she had treated Theo and Lana. It was her right as commanding officer to have their unquestioning obedience, but a good commander won obedience in other ways. Natasha would have...

_Enough about Natasha. I'll never measure up to her, so what's the use? Besides, she was so emotional. It's what made her strong, what made her a great leader, but it would make me weak._

_Maybe I should try asking Varmo for advice again. He seems to have his emotions under control; he can speak with great passion, but he doesn't let his personal feelings take hold of him._

"A coin for your thoughts, fair lady?"

Dawn started. She had neither seen nor heard any sign of Grawler's approach, yet he was now walking right by her side. "Shouldn't you be scouting the area for enemies?" she asked sharply.

"Your friend Halron is taking a turn at that for an hour or so. I think I deserve a little break, don't you?"

"I suppose." She turned to face ahead, hoping her lack of interest might discourage him. Natasha would reprimand her for her unfriendliness, of course, but Natasha wasn't around.

"You seemed rather lost in thought just now," Grawler said.

"I am, at least by my official rank, the leader of this escort. There are many responsibilities on my head."

"That's admirable."

"What?"

"It's admirable. That you're so dedicated to your responsibilities, I mean."

Dawn sighed. _Maybe Theo's remark wasn't so far off after all._ "Grawler, forgive me for being so blunt, but... Don't you think you're a little old for me?" She would gauge the raider as being in his mid-to-late twenties.

He chuckled. "Forgive you? If you ask me, some bluntness is pretty refreshing. I'm sick of lies and double talk."

_Given his background, I suppose he would be. Perhaps he wants to turn his back on that path? I hope so._

"As for your question... My father was a whole two decades older than my mother. Makes our age difference look puny, doesn't it?"

"No," Dawn retorted. "It just makes your father look like a disgusting predator."

Grawler laughed loudly at that. It wasn't an annoying laugh, though; he clearly wasn't forcing it in a misguided effort to get her to lighten up, nor was he taking undue hilarity from the image she had presented. It was more like he was simply laughing at himself, seeing himself in his humble measurements.

"I reckon he may have been one, at that, fair lady," Grawler yielded. "You don't think I'm the same, do you?"

She hesitated. "I don't know. Either way, I'm sorry, but I'm just not interested."

"Oh. There's someone else, isn't there?"

"Can't I simply not be interested in someone nearly old enough to be my father?" she snapped.

He shrugged. "I'd think that if you weren't already involved with anyone, you wouldn't totally dismiss someone before you even know them."

"This may surprise you, but I'm over a year short of the age where most centaurs are married. Your last years of life in which you can be considered attractive to the opposite sex may be slipping away like the last grains of an hourglass, but mine are not. I'm in no hurry for a suitor."

"Again, love the bluntness." He smiled, but weakly. "I'm sorry to hear what you're saying, though."

Dawn felt she should say something to that, but couldn't think of anything. In truth, she was a bit flattered, if only because it was rare that any man showed that sort of interest in her, but she certainly didn't want Grawler to know that. She didn't want to chastise him any further, either, given that his romantic advances had to all appearances been made with honorable intent.

The sound of wings flapping made them both look up. Claude was coming in for a landing in front of them.

"Pardon me for interrupting whatever discussion you two might be having," the birdman said. "Sergeant Dawn, I just thought I should inform you directly that I'm heading back to Castle Cypress."

"What?" she exclaimed, actually rearing back. "Just like that?"

"Not at all," he replied. "I've already discussed this with the Lady Sarah. Not counting myself, this escort force has grown from six soldiers to eight, with the additions of Binuto and Grawler. You're not shorthanded any more. This was always a temporary assignment for me, anyway. King Nicholas has another mission for me."

"What kind of mission?"

"Sorry - it's secret." He smiled. "It was good working with you and Jaha again, even for such a short time."

"I... Likewise," she said, almost hiccuping the latter word. It surprised her, but she felt actually aggrieved at Claude's leaving. Perhaps it was just that he was a very likeable person, and that she had been unconsciously looking forward to Lady Sarah, Claude, Jaha, and herself being reunited with May and Chester in Emild. Why, she couldn't imagine... but that campaign somehow felt like a happier time in her life, in a way.

Claude bowed his head. "I wish you well, until your return to Cypress." His wings beat the air, carrying him away.

----------------------

They arrived the morning of the next day, as planned. An elf met them at the gate; to Dawn's disappointment, it was not Chester.

"We didn't expect anyone from Cypress," the elf replied to her introduction.

"His Most Glorious Majesty, King Nicholas II, extended the offer of a proper diplomatic meeting to Emild on several occassions," she returned. "His Majesty King Ian did not deign to reply, so we have come here for the sake of both our nations."

"I think I understand. Please wait here."

"Wait," Dawn said as the elf turned to go. "Your king... do you think he's... all right? If you understand what I mean..."

He considered. "His Majesty is dealing with some very difficult situations, right after suffering the death of his father. And he is young. That is all."

"It is good to hear that."

They waited, her and Halron, while the four other Emild guards watched them silently. "Do you think he spoke the truth?" the beastman asked.

"I don't think he lied. However... the number of guards at the gate has nearly doubled since my last time here. That might mean something. Or it might not."

Halron grunted in acknowledgement. A minute passed in silence. It wasn't unpleasant, but she could feel an unsettling aura of danger before them, and judging by his manner, Halron felt it as well. Not for the first time on the trip, she wished that Jane or Vyra were there to boost her spirits. Or Natasha. Though probably none of them would be happy with her for supporting Varmo. Jane would be furious.

"Back when I was in prison..." Halron spoke up. "You were the one who defended me in front of Binuto."

She waited a moment, not immediately realizing that was all he had to say. "I wish I could say I did it for you," she replied. "The truth is, I just hated Binuto's behavior. That sort of thing shouldn't be tolerated."

"Still, you said that I didn't deserve that kind of treatment." He nodded his head. "Thank you."

"I..." She was about to reiterate that it hadn't been for him, but with thoughts of her three friends fresh in her mind, she could hear them laughing in gentle reprimand of her foolish preciseness. So she corrected herself, "You're welcome. I didn't do it to make you feel less alone, but I'm glad that's what it did."

Before their conversation could proceed any further, a dwarf dressed in surprisingly fine clothing approached. "Welcome to Emild," he said, smiling with enthusiasm. "I am King Ian's advisor, Akron. His esteemed Majesty was not expecting you, but we are quite ready to serve all of you lunch, and His Majesty has extended an invitation for you to join him."

"All of us?" Dawn echoed. "Not just the Lady Sarah, but her attendants, and all her guards?"

"That is correct. His Majesty dines in roughly two hours. Do you accept?"

It was a surprisingly generous offer, even for the most benevolent of kings. "His Majesty is most gracious," she replied. "But, if there is time before we are to eat with him, I would hope for a chance to speak with one of the Emildians whom I met in my first visit to Emild, either May or Chester. We would like to be brought up to date on the recent doings in your country, and I'm sure that would be most easily done by someone who knows us and knows how far our knowledge of Emild extends."

"And it would be good to see a familiar face, wouldn't it?" Akron happily agreed. "Certainly, I can arrange that. May is most likely free at this hour; I'll have her sent for, and inform His Majesty and the cooks to expect her for lunch as well. Anything else?"

"Thank you. I'll speak to Lady Sarah to see if she accepts."

----------------------

"All has been going well in Emild, then?" Lady Sarah asked May as they walked through the castle halls, Dawn and Varmo on either side of the noblewoman, the other six guards and the two attendants following behind.

"I wouldn't say that," May answered with a grimace.

The Lady Sarah had given them permission to speak freely while they were with May, so Dawn asked, "Why, what's wrong?"

May gave a wary glance around. "Please don't tell anyone I discussed this with you, or even alluded to it, but... Chester has been imprisoned."

"Chester! Why?"

"He was caught digging through His Majesty's papers. Included among them was a seditious letter from a noble, Lord Albert, so Chester's actions looked suspicious indeed."

"That's troubling news," Lady Sarah said, while Dawn pondered why May didn't sound more upset over it. "How certain is it that he committed the deed?"

"There's a trustworthy eyewitness. It's not a perfectly solid case, but believe me, Chester is guilty." She frowned to herself. "What's troubling is that he was so conveniently caught in the act."

"How do you know he is gui-"

"Ah, here we are." May turned and opened a set of double doors with a key, leading them inside to a modest-sized gallery. "Ian's picture is the one farthest to the right in order... in other words, the only one on the right wall."

Still following, but increasingly puzzled by May's apparent contentment, Dawn prodded, "Aren't you upset about Chester?"

"Of course, but I'm confident that he'll be punished fairly for his crime. Besides, it's best that you're not able to see him. You see, Chester is... is the only Emildian to claim that King Ian's father was killed and then impersonated by an Iom worshipper. If you told me the truth about the king's death, then you should avoid seeming to be in conspiracy with Chester. And if you lied, then I'm glad that Chester won't be able to pass his ill-gotten information on to you."

Dawn looked behind her, worried that the others would be outraged at May's cold lack of trust. Most of them had only quizzical looks, however. Which made sense, she supposed, since the only one who knew May at all was Jaha. Who, apparently bored of listening to all their big words, had wandered off to peer at and prod every corner of the gallery. Only the Lady Sarah, Varmo, and herself seemed to comprehend what May was doing: speaking carefully in case of spying ears, while subtly warning them of the suspicion they were under. After all, May had trusted their story of Gordon's impersonation before, and there was no reason why she would suddenly distrust it now.

"It really is a very good likeness of him," May said, looking up at the painting of King Ian.

Guessing that May was probably making that remark for a purpose, she took a look. The man in the painting was handsome, tall, imposing, with a broad sword held at rest in one hand. She glanced to the left, at the portrait of his father. They were both handsome, but Ian was certainly the taller and more imposing, in spite of the fact that King Ian was a youth, while his then newly-crowned father was well into adulthood.

For the first time, Varmo spoke up, "What... exactly... do you mean by 'a very good likeness'?"

May smiled with quiet fondness(tarnished by a subtle touch of regret) at the painting. "Well, His Majesty was very pleased with it when he saw it."

"I see." A faint smile curled Varmo's lips. Dawn found it oddly disturbing. "I suppose he enjoys the thought of foreign visitors seeing it."

"Indeed. I think you understand."

"Whoa!" They all jumped at Jaha's rude exclamation. "Who the heck is this bloated royal?"

"Jaha!" the Lady Sarah snapped, making him start. "Come here. You will speak with respect in the presence of our hosts or not at all. I don't know what you're doing over there in the first place."

"Sorry," Jaha said ashamedly, looking up at Dawn rather than Lady Sarah. "I just got carried away." His voice fell to a whisper. "And really, it's weird! All the other kings are so slim; it's just this one guy who's enormous!"

"Interesting," Dawn said dryly. In truth, though, she was thankful for Jaha's enthusiasm and carefree attitude; they lightened her spirits. May's subtle hints of danger and Varmo's strange behavior had both been unnerving her.

As they filed out of the room, May said, "I assume you've all met Sir Akron?"

"Indeed we have," the Lady Sarah answered. "I don't recall him from my first visit to Emild, years ago, and Dawn and Jaha tell me that he indeed was never advisor to His Majesty's late father. That would make him new to the position, I gather?"

"Very new," May confirmed. "Not just as advisor, but to the high court of Emild as a whole. Yet he rose quickly in His Majesty's esteem. Our dear King Ian relies on him for advice on every sort of matter." Her face twitched. "Well, 'relies' is too strong a word, perhaps. King Ian is too wise to place complete trust in anyone, save his siblings of course, and Helen."

"Helen?"

"His old nurse. King Ian has the strength and wisdom of an adult, but in some ways he is still a child. He clings to people and things from his childhood. They give him the emotional support to continue his... very difficult work."

Varmo spoke up again, "And the difficulty of this work is why he hasn't consented to discuss trade agreements and such before now? Because he has been too busy with internal affairs?"

"I cannot speak for His Majesty; you'll have to ask him that yourself. It does seem the most likely explanation, though."

"Yes. And yet..." Varmo paused, as though considering, but even her relatively brief acquaintance with him was enough for Dawn to recognize his hesitation as staged. "...yet despite his focus on internal affairs, His Majesty doesn't seem to have had much success in getting rid of the bandits."

May's whole expression broke into one of shock. "What do you mean, bandits?"

"Oh, you didn't know that your country has several bands of merciless raiders?"

"Yes, of course I knew that, but..." May stammered. "You don't mean that you actually ran into one of these bands, do you?"

"Verily."

"Two of them, actually," Lady Sarah added. "They are the reason Binuto is using a hood to shade over the right side of his face."

May paused. "It's odd that you would run afoul of them on such a short journey. Unless, of course, they targeted you. Then it's odd that they would target a small diplomatic party. Did you bring valuable gifts for His Majesty?"

"No. The most gracious Nicholas II believes that the terms we have come to offer King Ian are gift enough for Emild." It was easy to guess why; Emild was not yet an ally, and was comparatively small in importance to mighty Cypress.

"Of course. Then as I said, it's odd that they would target you." She stopped at a door. "Now, I assume you all would like to meet Kailena, our minister of foreign affairs."

----------------------

Their meeting with the minister was fairly uninteresting; Kailena seemed cordial, and good at her job, as far as Theo could tell. Varmo was still behaving in a manner that made his flesh crawl, though. With anyone else, Theo would have counted the vote of Dawn's trust as proof enough to ease his worries; she was hardly the gullible sort, or even the trusting sort. But with Varmo, he just found it hard to believe that her trust wasn't in the wrong place.

After bidding farewell to the minister, they made their way to the dining room, and the twelve of them(May, the Lady Sarah, Lady Sarah's two attendants, and the eight guards) stood before their assigned places at the table until the king arrived.

There was also Akron following behind, but King Ian caught Theo's attention far more. He had handsome features, the gentle mop of brown hair on his head belying how dangerous they all seemed to think he was. But he seemed vaguely weary, dropping himself into his chair rather than carefully sitting. He was not even half the imposing man in the painting. The rest of the room followed his example and sat down.

The king frowned. "Why did you all wait until I was seated to seat yourselves?"

"We know that Emild doesn't believe in strict formality, Your Majesty," the Lady Sarah said. "But given that this is Cypress's first meeting with you, I thought it appropriate to begin with a demonstration of our respect for your regal personage. It is my understanding that you had not been prepared to assume the throne at the time that it fell to you, and the dedication to your people that you showed by accepting that burden is noteworthy all by itself."

"I see..." Ian said with obvious hesitation, looking at her oddly. "Well, you may all consider yourselves welcome to Emild. It is... an unexpected pleasure." He began eating.

"Surely you must have somewhat expected this, Your Majesty. The emissaries you sent us were completely unprepared to make trade negotiations, a matter which should be settled as soon as possible in light of the recent changes in power in both our respective nations."

Ian started. "You... mean to settle that matter now, then? Over our meal?"

"Of course not, Your Majesty. This is an informal lunch. I am available at Your Majesty's convenience for the whole of the afternoon."

"This afternoon," the king said flatly, and gave a weak smile. "I'm afraid that I already have far too many pieces of business demanding my intention this afternoon, Lady Sarah. Ordinarily I would have arranged to attend to you as soon as possible, but given your unexpected arrival... unexpected in its timing, at least... I'm afraid it's not possible. Perhaps tomorrow."

"I am quite willing to speak with a group of your ministers who are qualified to work out a trade agreement instead, Your Majesty."

"No. This is altogether too important a matter for me to not oversee it myself."

"Understood." Lady Sarah paused to tend to her meal. Theo fidgeted, already uncomfortable with the king's excuses for delay, even as he told himself that they were all perfectly reasonable. Nearly as unnerving was the way Varmo kept nodding at King Ian and smiling. There was a certain sickening smugness in the smile, but mainly, it reminded him of the smile one sometimes sees on the face of a warrior just as he realizes that he has left himself open to a painful blow.

Theo was keeping his fidgety hands under the table for the most part, bringing them out only to quickly stuff mouthfuls of food in. He nearly flinched in shock when another hand touched his under the table, but then he recognized it as Lana's. Sensing her anxiety, and wanting to ease his own, he clasped her hand in his.

"Allow me to remind Your Majesty," Lady Sarah resumed, "...that there is also the lesser matter that our military alliance is still awaiting your final approval. Since it should take no time at all to deal with, I propose that matter also be addressed immediately following the trade agreements. You have, of course, reviewed the military alliance?"

"Ah..." the king began.

"Because I would assume that, given the serious troubles your nation is facing in this time of change, Your Majesty would at least have the common sense to secure a military alliance with a neighboring nation as soon as possible," she pressed on. "The people of Emild must be protected, must they not?"

Akron sharply nudged King Ian with his elbow. "Yes, of course," the king answered, planting a clenched fist on the table. "Yes, I have reviewed the alliance your chief general drew up. We can certainly settle that in our first formal meeting."

----------------------

The Cypress expedition was provided a comfortable set of rooms to spend the night in. Lady Sarah had her own room, while the boys were split between two other rooms, and the three girls shared a fourth. A pair of guards were posted by Lady Sarah's room, each of the eight guards being assigned one of four watches. Dawn and Jaha took the first watch.

This left Varmo to announce his plan to his two roommates, Halron and Grawler.

"We've got to get out of here. Immediately."

Grawler stretched his limbs, accompanying it with a half-yawn. "What's your hurry?"

"King Ian means to get rid of us," he said, pacing around the room. "At his first opportunity, he'll make it look as though we've done something terrible, snooping around for sensitive information or something like that, and that will give him all the excuse he needs to hang us."

"What makes you so sure?" Halron said.

"Because that's what I'd do in his position," Varmo answered, fighting the lump in his throat. _Get a grip on yourself. Halron is your friend, and Grawler is a bandit. Neither one is going to be bothered by your... your moral weakness._

Halron sighed. "What makes you think King Ian would make the same choices as you?"

"Everything. The ludicrously inaccurate painting with its clear attempt to... to intimidate. The care he took with answers to the easiest of questions. The delaying tactics. Though we only seek advantage over him through normal diplomatic means, and offer far more benefit than harm, he fears us. And he's not secure enough in his own power to let us be, to play the game the way..." He took a moment, struggling for the right words. "...the way decent society has decreed it should be. It's just like with Yeesha, my friend."

"Yeesha?" Grawler echoed, scratching his head.

"A long story," Halron assured him. "Varmo... why this revelation all of the sudden? How are you suddenly seeing this negative perspective of yourself?"

"I don't know. I took a look at that painting of King Ian, and it all started to click, I... I see myself in him. And I must admit, I'm anything but impressed." He sighed. "I could never see it before. This whole experience, being forced to work with you all as just a common fighter, it... it's made me step back from myself for the first time." He shook his head. "That doesn't matter right now. We have to convince Lady Sarah of the danger and get out of here immediately, before King Ian makes his move."

"Look, I'm not the brightest egg of the bunch," Grawler put in. "...but isn't that a bit hasty? King Ian didn't look all that unhinged to me."

Halron nodded. "And assuming we can manage an escape, fleeing right in the middle of negotiations will cause an international incident. It's a slight chance of saving our lives against a certainty of damaging Cypress's diplomatic clout."

"Weren't either of you paying attention to May?" Varmo said impatiently. "She was trying to warn us. King Ian _is_ that paranoid, and we already know he hired bandits to kill us."

"No, we don't. Lady Sarah suspects that, but -"

"Lady Sarah suspects, and May suspects, and it fits the whole deal with the Blue Dragons dragging their asses across this stinking country just so that they can slam a lone wagon filled with Cypress soldiers!"

"Varmo, calm down."

Grawler raised an eyebrow. "Does he always change the whole way he talks when he gets upset?"

"Damn it, I'm scared!" Varmo burst out in a near yelp. "I know we have a duty to Cypress here, but they're going to kill us! All King Ian needs is the right excuse."

"Look, pal, maybe King Ian learned his lesson after the Blue Dragons failed. Your Lady Sarah was doing a pretty good job of intimidating him, and he has to realize you're suspicious of him now and will be watching for him to do wrong again."

"Wait a second," Halron mused. "The right excuse..."

"Halron?"

"I just realized something. Right now, Jaha is on duty. That means Binuto is in a room with just Theo and Lady Sarah's attendant... neither of whom is particularly suspicious of him." His fist clenched. "They'll go peacefully to sleep. Giving Binuto the perfect opportunity to betray us all."

Varmo sat down on a bed. "I knew I should have found a way to frame him before we reached Emild castle."

"Did you? And how would that have been different from what you did to Yeesha?"

Varmo tried to think up an important difference for a moment, then simply flopped face down on the bed. "...Dammit."

_Gods, why can't I be a strong leader, like King Nicholas? Why do I always bend to fear and malice?_

The sound of the door opening made him lift his head. "Halron, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to check on what Binuto is up to."

"By yourself? Don't be ridiculous. If you catch him in the act, how will it look to the others when you're the only witness?"

"It'll look pretty good to Lady Sarah, I think. So far as she knows, the only difference between the two of us is that Binuto abandoned his post at Castle Cypress. Besides, it might work out that I can call some of you to get a look. The point is, neither of you have my stalking skills. If either of you come along, Binuto will hear us and we'll be back where we started."

"But..." It was a solo enterprise. After working with the rest of the group, Varmo knew how intrinsically risky that was. He would have been killed if it weren't for Grawler killing his "mount" in the last battle, or Jaha shielding him from arrows, or Dawn fighting off attackers... He didn't like the idea in general. And he specifically feared the prospect of Halron getting into a fight with Binuto alone. Yet he couldn't think of a better idea.

"Stay here. If anything goes wrong, check on Lady Sarah first, then get Dawn."

The door closed behind Halron.

"Is he trustworthy? Halron, I mean?" Grawler said.

That was a thought. Varmo still had little reason to trust Halron, and this was a good enough excuse to rub out Binuto...

"No," Varmo said with resolve. Then, remembering what Grawler's question had been, he amended, "I mean, yes! Yes, he told me in as many words that he wanted nothing from Binuto but to teach him a lesson and turn him over to Lady Sarah. He wouldn't have lied to me about that." With a sigh, he lay back down on the bed. "What I wouldn't give for a good bottle of wine and a nice glass to pour it in right now."

----------------------

Footsteps.

Halron had confirmed that there was no one awake in the room shared by the other men. Listening at the door was enough to tell him that much, and he wasn't willing to raise an alarm by either knocking or breaking the lock. That left him to wander the corridors in search of Binuto.

He had been doing that for a few minutes when he heard them. Very soft, very subtle, so much so that it was doubtful even his trained ears would have caught the sound if he hadn't been listening for it. Whoever the footsteps belonged to, it was someone who wanted, above all else, to avoid discovery.

Halron didn't stop walking. Whoever the footsteps belonged to could be watching; he had to act normal. Moving along, he heard...

_...Yes. Definitely. I'm being followed._

A game that two could play. Halron had already been stepping softly, in case there happened to be an Emild soldier nearby. His follower shouldn't find it amiss if those steps went from soft to silent. He took a side-step, placing each foot with care not to make the slightest noise.

Proceeding in similarly silent manner, he worked his way around a large pillar. His ears picked up the sound of his stalker's footsteps, and determined that they were still proceeding in a straight line, right towards where he _had_ been.

As the footsteps passed by the pillar he was hiding behind, Halron took a peek.

Binuto. _Perfect. Almost perfect; it would have been good if I could summon the others as actual witnesses. But Varmo will vouch for me anyway, and the word of one who abandoned his post is meaningless._

He reached forward and seized Binuto by the arms. "Sur-"

He nearly screamed as Binuto leapt backward into him, pulling a dagger out almost by sleight of hand and driving it into his shin. Before he could retaliate, Binuto sprang forward, the sudden reverse in momentum allowing him to slip out of Halron's grasp.

"Thought I might find you up to no good tonight," the human said, stashing his dagger and drawing a sword instead.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Halron snarled, assuming a battle stance. "I think you know I've been looking forward to crushing you for a long time. But this isn't the place. We're liable to get the attention of the Emild guards, which won't be good for diplomatic relations. So I'll give you one chance to go back to your room and stay there."

"And leave you to your business? I don't think so. Besides, why draw this feud out any longer?" He hefted his sword. "Let's finish it, Dantom's nephew."


	30. Chapter 30: Instinct and Revenge

- Chapter 30: Instinct and Revenge -

Halron weighed his situation. He didn't have a weapon, for starters. That was normal, but against a warrior like Binuto with a sword's reach to work with, even getting his hands on his opponent without losing them both would be difficult. His beastman's eyes were better suited to darkness than Binuto's, but the human might have adjusted to the dark by now. He couldn't count on that as an advantage.

So he would need a weapon, to start with at least. While wishing he had trained in one - a bo, perhaps - his eyes fell on his best option. A painting on the wall. He leaped towards Binuto, snatched the painting in mid-leap, and swung it at him in a counter-clockwise arc.

As he expected, Binuto instinctively swung his sword to block the strike, forgetting that with Halron, the biggest danger did not lie with any weapon. The blade cut into the wood of the painting and was instantly entangled. An instant later, Halron's left fist slammed into Binuto's jaw, followed by his right. Binuto rolled with the latter, tumbling across the floor in the opposite direction.

Halron wouldn't let him go that easily, and without hesitation he leapt at him. But Binuto moved with unbelievable speed, swinging a leg up in a graceful kick which caught Halron square in the chest.

The pain screamed through Halron's chest, sharp and unforgiving beyond anything he'd felt before, and he immediately feared a cracked rib. But he would not let the pain stop him, or even slow him. He seized the leg Binuto had attacked with and yanked him into the air, swinging him at the nearest pillar. It was a move Binuto had no chance to react to, with enough momentum to shatter his skull once it impacted the pillar.

In that moment, Halron let anticipation take hold, and he imagined the satisfaction of finally seeing the lowly, unscrupled worm dead at his feet.

Then Binuto's arms shot forward, palms slapping against the pillar, bringing his motion to a halt. With his free leg he kicked Halron in the face. Cursing loudly, Halron let go.

Before he knew what was happening, Binuto had snatched up his sword and was upon him, slashing with a skill and ferocity that Halron would have thought belonged only in legends. His own skill was hardly second rate, and he blocked Binuto's strokes as best as he could with his arms, but it did little good. Binuto seemed to know how to make nearly every attack hit with the edge of his blade.

Blood poured over him. His sight turned blurry, but he wasn't sure if blood was starting to run into his eyes, if one of his eyes had caught a scratch from Binuto's sword, or if he was simply growing weak from his wounds.

The idea struck him that he could try simply leaping at Binuto, taking him out before he knew what was happening. But to do so -to do _any_ counterattack- he'd have to lower his guard, and odds were ten to one that if he did that, Binuto would simply lop his head off... ending it.

_I don't want to die,_ he thought, sobbing within in hopelessness. He thought of Varmo back in their room, his bare fear of King Ian's paranoia. _I want to protect him. I want to see him find his way and become a great leader. I want to apologize to Theo for everything I've done. I want to hear Dawn and Jaha tell their battle stories. I want to thank Lana for showing me I could be accepted so easily. I want to see Lady Sarah triumph in our mission. Beloved Cypress, I don't want to die!_

"Stop," he croaked, feeling his limbs weaken against the countless injuries. He expected Bintuo to respond with some mockery, but he simply continued hacking away without mercy, not saying a word. Halron's sight was even blurrier at this point, but what he saw of Binuto's expression almost seemed to say that the human was somewhere else entirely.

Varmo was right, he realized. It had been foolhardy to try to take Binuto down alone.

Then he heard a voice - not Binuto's - shout something out. And a loud blow.

Binuto stumbled. Another blow followed, and he was knocked aside. Halron lowered his guard and saw Theo standing before him, bo at the ready. Relief hit him hard, and he finally collapsed onto hands and knees. Theo caught him with a supporting hand.

"Damn it... Theo," Binuto said in a sour tone as he rubbed the back of his head. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving Halron from you," another new voice interrupted. Varmo stepped forward, using Blaze to ignite one of the torches nearby, apparently to make things visible to himself and Theo. Halron felt a pulse of elation at the sight of his friend. "It appears, traitor, that you've showed your true colors at last. I'm glad I took the risk of bringing Theo into this. He's not as stealthful as Halron, but he's good enough to sneak up on someone distracted by battle. I concluded that if he followed Halron at a distance, he'd be fine. As soon as I heard the sounds of a fight, I followed."

"Theo..." he said sadly. "You've let yourself be taken in by these two?"

Theo clenched his staff with a free hand, glaring at Binuto. "General Mayfair chose 'these two' to be part of this mission. I think I see now why she didn't choose you."

"Now that... that hurts." Shockingly enough, Binuto sounded like he actually meant it. "I was going to stay at Castle Cypress. General Mayfair convinced me it was the best thing for me to do. She really did." He sighed heavily, glancing at his sword, which Theo had knocked well out of reach. "I thought nothing could tempt me to disobey her after that talk she gave me. But then I heard Halron was chosen for the Lady Sarah's escort. I felt almost betrayed. How could she not know how dangerous he is? Not that it matters. I knew he was bound to betray you all. I had to follow, to save the mission. And sure enough, I found him sneaking out to betray Cypress, probably by soaking his hands in the blood of an Emild official. I stopped him."

"All you..." Halron coughed. "All you stopped me from... was tracking you, to see what you were up to."

Binuto rolled his eyes. "Don't you see, Theo? He has no more loyalty than his uncle."

Theo looked back at him solidly. "Sorry, Binuto. I might have believed you, but one more thing shows that you're a liar. Varmo tells me that Halron told him and Grawler what he was up to. You're the one who snuck out of our room while I was asleep and Jaha was on duty."

"You wouldn't have believed me. And what makes you think Halron told them the truth?"

Theo struggled with that for a moment, but it looked more as though he was trying to figure out what the answer was than that he didn't have one. At last he said, "Because he couldn't count on you leaving your room, and anyone else knowing you'd left. If there was a dead Emild official, like you said, and Halron was the only one we knew had left his room, that'd make him look pretty guilty. The smart thing to do would be to just slip out while they were asleep - like you did."

"I think we've said quite enough," Varmo intervened. "Theo, go bring Lana here before Halron bleeds to death."

Theo hesitated. "Why not you?"

"Because if something fatal happens to Halron and whichever of us stays with him, who do you think the others will be more likely to believe if they say that Binuto was responsible? You or me?"

With a brief nod, Theo headed towards the girls' room.

As Varmo bent down to support him, Halron grunted, "That's 'he says', you half-illiterate. 'Who do you think the others will be more likely to believe if he says that Binuto was responsible.' You just spoke as if you and Theo were each multiple individuals."

"Excuse me for getting flustered when my friend's guts are spilling all over the floor," Varmo hissed back. "If I manage to keep from puking until Binuto and Lana get back, I deserve a medal."

Halron chuckled; it came out weak due to his wounds, but it felt good nonetheless. "Don't understand how this happened... I should have beaten him. With his sword, maybe he had the advantage, but I disarmed him right off. And when I swung him at the pillar... that was a killing move. He shouldn't have been able to stop that. However well-trained he is, he's still a human; his strength can't match mine. How did he manage to stop that attack just with his hands?"

"...You meant to kill him?"

Halron snorted. "You're expressing moral indignation now?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just not the bloodthirsty sort. Even if you had plenty of reason to kill him." He paused. "By the way, what was he up to? Did you actually catch him in the act of treason?"

"Not exactly. He was stalking me, and -"

Before Halron could finish, yet another new voice said, "Stop right there, Binuto." His subconscious had already picked up the sound of hooves, so he immediately recognized Dawn's voice. Looking towards Binuto, he saw that the human had been making a furtive reach for his sword.

"You're supposed to be on guard duty," Binuto remarked.

Dawn smiled. "That's one I'll have to share with the girls at Castle Cypress. Desertor Binuto, chastising someone for abandoning guard duty." Her smile quickly dropped to a frown. "Put two-and-two together, you smug low-life. Did you really think Grawler would just stay in his room? Obviously Varmo sent him to relieve me. A sergeant is supposed to be informed of any fighting among her troops. I'm not surprised to find you as the antagonist here, Binuto; my instincts haven't failed me yet."

"Halron attacked _me_," he returned.

_That's it,_ Halron realized. _I wasn't sure Binuto was up to treachery. I just assumed. And when he implied that he was suspicious of me, I began to doubt that assumption. That left only my hatred against him for the things he's done to me personally. Only anger... and not enough anger to kill someone, not anymore. So I hesitated. I didn't put all my strength into that swing. That's why he could stop it._

"Well, Halron," Dawn said. "We might as well clear this up now. Is Binuto telling the truth? Did you attack him first?"

"Technically, yes," he admitted. "I heard him following me, so I turned the tables and tried to take him by surprise, and knock him out. It didn't work. But after that, I did offer to let him go without a fight if he went straight back to his room. He refused. I admit that a fight with him was what I wanted, but I did try to avoid it. I suppose I was wrong to ambush him, but..."

"No. He snuck out of his room without telling his roommates; that's plenty of reason for you to be suspicious. Thank you for your honesty."

Binuto snorted. "His honesty?"

"Your untrustworthiness has already been proved, Binuto," Varmo reminded him.

A set of footsteps approached, cutting off further debate.

"Alright, alright," Lana yawned. "I'm up, I'm here, now where's the... person... bleeding... all over the floor." She blanched.

"C'mon, Lana, do your stuff," Theo prodded.

She bent gracefully at both knees, laying her hands upon Halron's wounds. Her expression still looked rather nauseous. "It's not as bad as it looks," he reassured her, though he suspected it actually was.

"Lovely," Binuto said drily. "We have almost the whole gang loitering around in the middle of the night here."

A metallic clanking made them all start. The sound of armor, Halron realized. _It has to be the Emild guards. And we can't flee; at least one of us is bound to get caught._

Akron, the king's advisor, stepped forward. Four guards accompanied him, two on each side. "Indeed," he said. "Loitering around in the middle of the night, as you said, and covered in the blood of poor Sir Elric. The trail led us to you, and much as I loathe to admit so, it's clear what motive you Cypressians would have had for murdering him." He nodded to the guards. "Arrest them. I'll gather more men to take care of their ringleader, the noblewoman."

The guards stepped forward to begin herding them along. Theo assumed a position halfway to a battle stance, holding his bo loosely but nonetheless at the ready. He looked at Sergeant Dawn uncertainly.

"Dawn... do we fight?" he asked.

The sergeant didn't look so certain herself. Halron couldn't blame her. While it was true that slaughtering a bunch of Emild guards would bring war between Cypress and Emild, their being arrested would probably do that, too. The four Emild guards were outnumbered and probably outmatched; escape was quite possible. But then, wasn't there a chance that if they went along peacefully, they might be found innocent?

Dawn closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "No. We surrender, for now."

"You... idiot!" Varmo snapped at the departing figure of Akron. "If we had killed Sir Elric, do you think we'd linger around a big open area like this? Your stupidity in arresting us is... is..." He stomped his foot in frustration. "...is defineable as an act of war! Cypress can rip this nation apart like a piece of aged paper!"

"I don't think he cares, Varmo," Dawn whispered as the guards pushed them along. Lana was allowed to finish healing Halron, but after that they were herded forward until they caught up with the others. "In fact, that may be what he wants. Remember what May said about Akron? He's new to the court. He may have his own agenda."

"Like what?"

Dawn just shook her head. It was all a mystery for now. The one thing for certain was that their diplomacy with Emild was over.


	31. Chapter 31: Opening Moves

**Part 3: Sacrifices**

"Follow the wild geese  
wherever they may go  
though you will find no peace  
and have nothing to show  
Still, you follow your heart  
and die for a friend  
when you follow the wild geese  
to the bitter end

Follow the wild wind  
wherever it may blow  
Your heart had taken wings  
a long time ago  
And there's no man can steal  
the seeds that you sow  
When you follow the wild wind,  
only God will know..."

- from "Wild Geese" by Jim Capaldi and the Contenders (lyrics copyright 1979 Jim Capaldi)

- Chapter 31: Opening Moves -

The dinner was proceeding well, by Mayfair's judgment. Princess Muriel and her attendants seemed suitably pleased with the meal and the settings. The musicians, tumblers, and other entertainers provided far more lively diversion than would have been seen in Castle Cypress even a month ago. Nick himself showed his usual abundance of wit and regal courtesy, and was no doubt capable of keeping his company amused and at ease all by himself. Mayfair lacked his mastery of conversation, but at the least she was able to answer all of Muriel's questions without any hesitation or other discomfiture. And Gyan was of course on his best behavior.

Only one aspect of the event irked her. For some reason, Nick persistently showered more attention on her than on their guest. He actually seemed to make a point of tearing his eyes off of Muriel to stare at her - not with the mixture of reverence, warmth, and calm reason that she was used to, but with a feigned infatuation. He always affected to love her in public, but his usual mask was a quiet adoration; this was different. This was like a poor imitation of the way a young man stares at a girl who has caught his fancy. It aggravated her that he was so blatantly slighting their guest, and he added to the embarrassment by making frequent remarks to Muriel about what an exceptional queen and wife she was, not hesitating to voice his pride in the child she was bearing as though the effort in accomplishing that had all been on his part.

Nick had to have some reason for this behavior, but she couldn't determine what it was. The only obvious possibility was to make Muriel jealous, and she had no notion why he would want that. Regardless, she didn't like the thought of offending Muriel.

_Good spirits, Nick, why didn't you tell me you were going to do this, and why, and how I'm supposed to act!?_ That was what bothered her the most: not knowing how to behave. She opted to play along with his game, deliberately blushing when he took her hand to kiss, and looking upon him with her best imitation of bliss and contentment. But for all she knew, what Nick wanted was for her to respond to his attentions with revulsion.

Much as this irritated her, however, she was able to keep perspective and recognize it as an insignificant issue. Nick's behavior only stood out to her because she knew him so well as a friend, and could recognize the subtle difference. Their Sharland visitors likely only noticed it on a subconscious level, if at all.

Taken from the simple perspective of Cypress's diplomatic relations, the dinner was proceeding well indeed.

But the sound of urgent rapping on a window ended it. Gasps circulated throughout the room as the Cypressians recognized Claude hovering outside.

"Let him in," Nick ordered, unperturbed by the sundering of the merry atmosphere.

The window was opened, and Claude flew up to the table. "Forgive my improper entrance, Your Majesty..."

"Something has happened to the diplomatic mission I sent to Emild, I take it?"

Claude nodded, and Mayfair broke out, "Nick, you didn't tell me Claude was -"

"He wasn't. It's more involved than that." He laid a hand on hers. "I will explain later, my queen."

"They all made it safely to Emild's capital, Your Majesty," Claude continued. "They had a few harrowing encounters with raiders, but they made it through without any casualties. In fact, they were joined by an Emildan named Grawler, and by a guard from Castle Cypress, Binuto. I gather you sent him."

Mayfair suspected that Claude knew they _hadn't_ sent him. But it wouldn't have been wise to mention a deserter in front of the visitors from Sharland.

"Unfortunately, on their first night under King Ian's hospitality, Lady Sarah and her entire escort were placed under arrest. They were accused of killing an Emild officer."

There followed a terrible silence in the room.

Beneath the dining table, Mayfair clutched a hand just below her heart. _Good spirits. The children... Dawn, Theo, Jaha, Halron, Lana, Varmo..._

"Clearly an outrage against justice, is it not, Your Majesty?" Muriel broke the silence. "Assuming there even was decent evidence of their guilt, it is common sense that a diplomatic party would not commit something as crude and contrary to their mission as assassination."

"It isn't necessary for you to point such things out, my lady," Nick returned. Mayfair couldn't help but be impressed at how flawlessly he kept his patience against Muriel's obvious attempt to push him into a decision. "We will liberate our people, or avenge them. But war with Emild isn't something to be taken lightly."

"Surely Cypress's military record shows that Emild has no chance?"

"It's not as simple as victory or defeat." He took a brief, contemplative sip of wine. "I would prefer to salvage some sort of benefit from Emild out of this, preferably an alliance with whoever is in power there once this is over. Do not forget, my lady, that Sharland benefits from having Emild still standing as much as Cypress does."

Muriel smiled, her lips drawn tight. "More so, actually, Your Majesty. You can't have overlooked the possibility of conquering Emild."

"There is no such possibility," the king said firmly. "A just king punishes his enemies according to their crimes. Emild has wronged us, but they have done nothing to justify a conquest. If they refuse to negotiate for the release of the Lady Sarah and her companions, we shall punish them by less extreme means."

Mayfair frowned. The princess's suggestion was absurd; though Nick hadn't bothered to point it out, subduing Emild to Cypress occupation would be many times more trouble than it was worth. Why was Muriel repeatedly baiting Nick this way? The relationship between Cypress and Sharland was ultimately self-serving for both sides, but this wasn't simply a struggle for diplomatic advantage. This was flat-out aggression.

"Are you sure," Muriel said, putting each word out slow and deadly, "...that there isn't another reason for your hesitation?"

"On the contrary, I'm quite certain there is." He turned his eyes to Mayfair for a few moments, looking at her intently, while still obviously talking to Muriel. It took all her effort to hide her discomfort, especially once she spotted Gyan smirking at the two of them. "You said that Emild has no chance. In fact, they have one; only one, but a very good one. Emild's borders lie but two days' march from Castle Cypress. If they have already mobilized their army - and to have done something so rash as imprisoning a diplomatic party, we must assume they have - they can be attacking these walls before we have a chance to drive them back into the heart of Emild." He took another faint sip of wine. "I have always feared the possibility of war with Emild for that reason. I'm confident that we can repel their army, of course, but when war is fought on these grounds, there are bound to be a few noteworthy casualties."

"I understand," she said. "Then that is at least one concern that Sharland can aid you with."

"...I'm afraid I don't follow, my lady."

Muriel leaned forward, and for the fifth time that evening, Mayfair found herself astounded by the splendor of her movements, and incredulous that Nick had sacrificed the opportunity to marry this beautiful woman simply for the minor betterment of Cypress. "Well, Your Majesty, while Sharland shall certainly honor our friendship by sending troops to aid in your battle against Emild..."

"I beg you not to bother," Nicholas broke in. "By the time your orders arrive, and the Sharland army reaches here, Emild will have already been subdued. In the unlikely event that Emild is victorious, the war will be over even more quickly. They simply cannot win a drawn-out war."

"I thought that's what you'd say. Of course, I'm sure my father would be willing to send troops just in case, if that is your wish." She paused for a spoonful of soup, and apparently not sensing an affirmative reaction to that suggestion, continued, "As I was saying, while we can send troops, we can best help by ensuring that even if Cypress falls, at least two of those hypothetical 'noteworthy casualties' you spoke of will not occur. Due to this unfortunate war, I will of course be heading back to Sharland tomorrow. There is room in my carriage for your wife and child."

"To take them out of harm's way?" Claude said. "That's gracious of you, Your Highness."

"Not at all. You are allies. And to be honest, I have been wanting to get better acquainted with Cypress's new queen." She looked intently at Mayfair. "I had never even heard of you until your marriage to Nicholas."

There was a pause, and then Nick said, "I thank you for the offer, my lady. I'll take it into consideration, and give you a decision in the morning."

Muriel stared at him. "Surely, you cannot be thinking of refusing the offer! Your wife is not safe here, and she would be even less safe anywhere but Sharland or Tyber. Aside from the fact that you have no reason to prefer Tyber, there is no one here who is prepared to take her there. What other option could you be pondering?"

_Guardiana_, Mayfair realized. _Nick would prefer to send me to Guardiana. Princess Muriel likely has an ulterior motive for wanting to bring me to Sharland, whereas Queen Anri and her court are completely trustworthy. But Nick can't say that he wants me sent there; he doesn't want Sharland to know Guardiana even exists._

"The danger here is not so great," King Nicholas said calmly. "And Mayfair is still my general, as well as my queen. Her leadership may well be needed to bring this war to the best possible resolution."

"For that," Muriel said sharply, "...you would put your love, and your heir, at risk?" Nick looked at a loss. "Surely by now you have another to serve in the role of general."

"None so accomplished. You are right, however... it isn't worth the risk of keeping her here." He turned back to Mayfair and again lifted her hand to his lips. He reached out and brushed his hand through her hair. His eyes were focused ardently on hers. "I will miss your company, my queen."

It was a good bit of acting, and the tenderness in his touch made Mayfair's heart falter and then quicken. His words, his gestures, were all an act, she knew, but he could not have faked the humanity she saw in his eyes. She saw his hunger to make things right, for the people of Cypress, for everyone, and the strength he wielded to make it so.

_Don't give your heart to him,_ she reminded herself. _He's not interested in it. Think. Nick wouldn't give in to Muriel's arguments unless he truly wanted me away from Cypress for the moment. Follow along._

Clasping his hand, she returned, "Not half as much as I will pine for yours, my king." She didn't need to fake the anxiety and disappointment in her voice; to leave the safety of Lady Sarah and her young guards entirely up to others went violently against every part of her nature. She was actually tempted to object to his order right in front of the visitors from Sharland. Only faith in Nick held her protest back.

_No matter what his feelings for me or for his child, Nick would never allow emotion to dictate his actions as king. He loves his people and his country too much to do such a thing. Either he really has judged that this war isn't worth putting Cypress's queen and heir at risk, or he's up to something else, something that isn't obvious to us. He wouldn't do this if it weren't for the good of Cypress._

"I will write to you," she added, on impulse.

"I will write back, if I have the time. But don't trust any letter from me, or anyone, telling you to return to Cypress. In the unlikely event I am captured, they may coerce me to write such a letter, as a trap. I will visit Sharland personally when it is time for you to return." He glanced at Muriel. "A visit to Sharland is overdue on my part, in any case."

The princess nodded. "We look forward to that happy time, Your Majesty."

----------------------

"As I've told you before, the only way that future can be prevented is by the death of your child," Brehen said, but without any of the weariness or defeat that the words might have suggested. Even though his hands were still leaning against the bars of his cell, he seemed to regard the problem with new confidence.

Natasha's hands clenched so hard around her staff that her fingers were nearly white. "Brehen, if you ever talk about harming my little girl again, to me or anyone, I swear I'll kill you."

As soon as the words came out, she realized that she didn't totally believe them. She had never killed anyone if it wasn't necessary to protect innocent people, and even doing that made her sick sometimes. Still, Brehen _was_ threatening an innocent life - dear Carla - and the very suggestion of anyone trying to hurt her made Natasha's blood boil. She couldn't even imagine what sort of vileness filled Brehen's heart, that he could ever desire something so terrible. Maybe she _would_ kill him if he suggested that again.

At any rate, it looked like Brehen believed her. He didn't know her, after all; he couldn't know how much she hated killing.

"I won't, then," Brehen said. "But how else do you plan on stopping that evil reign from coming to pass?"

"You said you saw a vision of the future. You must have some clue on how our child turned out that way, and how we can stop it!"

He shook his head. "If I had, do you really think I'd have done things the way I did? I searched for the reasons why the world had reached such a state; I always do. But finding the origin of things that happened years ago is practically impossible in the handful of hours that I have in my visions. All I know is that the one responsible is one of your children."

"There has to be something else," she insisted. "Just tell us exactly what you saw in your dream."

"It's all hazy... most of it is, I mean."

"Hazy?" Rohde said darkly. "That's a pretty sad excuse."

"Stop and think about it for a moment," he sighed. "All dreams are hazy. We remember only the absolute most dramatic moments. The rest is nearly forgotten, blurred into a haze of vague recollection."

"You're despicable," Natasha snapped.

"What?"

"You just sit there and... and talk about visions of people being slaughtered in that poetic manner! Do you think that this is all some poetic tragedy? Is that why you insist on sacrificing my children as the solution?"

"No, I..." He closed his eyes. "I can't expect a pregnant woman to be rational, but -"

"That's a stupid thing to say. A pregnant woman can be as rational as anyone else. I think you getting so defensive shows I guessed right about you." She shook her head. "But that doesn't matter. I just want to stop what happened in your dream. Tell me what you remember."

"Very little, at this point. I had the dream over half a year ago." He closed his eyes. "I found myself in a town of Guardiana - a distant kingdom, but you know of it by now, don't you?"

"Go on."

"Your child's army was coming through. They were attacking everyone... even though the town didn't have an army defending it. There were just a few militia fighters. That didn't make the invaders any less punishing in their attack. They killed the elderly without remorse, seized the women for their pleasure, and forced the men - in some cases even the children - into carrying their plunder for them. I listened for the name of the one responsible for this, and the name I kept hearing was Lord... something. It was obviously a title to instill fear rather than an actual name. I also seem to recall hearing the title 'the Cloud of Iom' a few times."

"You're summarizing," Natasha said sharply.

"That's honestly all I can do. I don't have any memory of my exact course of actions. I just remember the general impressions I gathered from what I saw." He had been standing up until this point, but now he seated himself roughly on the straw of his cell. "And even those... weary me. I've been having visions most of my life, Lady Natasha. That's a lot of bloodshed and human suffering to have witnessed."

Her brow crinkled. "Your visions are all... are all bloodshed and suffering?"

"Not _all_," Brehen said, frowning back at her. "But more than enough of them are like that to leave a most melancholy impression on me. There's a lot of sadness and tragedy in the world, my lady."

Restraining a frown of increasing puzzlement, she said, "Go on. The rest."

"From those references to 'the Cloud of Iom', I picked up that his assault on the town was part of the clean-up in his conquest of Guardiana. He had made a clean sweep up through Emild, Cypress, Sharland, and Guardiana. And from the sound of things, his conquest was continuing to other parts of the world.

"I found the lieutenant of that unit of his army and followed him. His men led him to a group of the militia fighters - four of them, I think - whom they had captured. One of them was a friend of yours, I think. His name was Gyan, and from the sound of things, they'd been looking for him for a long time. He looked... beaten, overcome by despair, and not just because of his capture. They asked him questions about where the other resistance leaders were. He didn't answer, and he shouted, sounding half-mad, 'Take me to Deanna and Natasha!'

"The lieutenant just answered, 'The Cloud of Iom ordered them executed for betraying almighty Iom's will months ago, and His Majesty approved it.'

"That's when..." Brehen paused, clenched his fists, as if to steel his courage. "That's when Gyan started mumbling that that was impossible, that he wouldn't kill his own mother and father. He said something about how the two of you loved him, and how he wouldn't kill the only two people who loved him. He said it all in a babbling voice, and I wouldn't have placed belief in any of what he'd said, if it weren't for the lieutenant's reply.

"'Love,' he said, '...even love between parent and child... is worthless if it stands against Iom's will. The Cloud of Iom at last recognized that his parents had stood against the will of our god, and were therefore a threat to our prosperity and his so long as they lived. A hard decision for any son to make... but he did it without regret.'

"Once done with their fruitless interrogation of Gyan and his companions, they..." Brehen closed his eyes and shuddered. "I remember all the things they did to them, vividly. That is one part of that dream that has irresistibly imprinted itself on my memory. But I do not wish to recount them, and believe me, you are better off not knowing. Even the soldiers carrying out the atrocities seemed horrified at what they were doing, for the most part. You see, your son had given specific orders on what his soldiers were to do to high-level resistance members. Either their loyalty to him or their fear of him was stronger than any moral revulsions they had. After what seemed like an eternity of watching this, unable to will myself to look away... I woke up, screaming."

Natasha watched him in silence a moment. "That's all you remember?"

"Yes." He blinked in surprise. "You're taking it rather well, that if you don't kill your children, one of them will kill you and your husband."

"But don't you see? Your dream _does_ give us a big clue about how our child turned out like that! All that talk about Iom's will, and calling him 'the Cloud of Iom', means the ugly road he took must have started with fanatical devotion to Iom! That's something Deanna and I can prevent."

"But it _doesn't_ mean that," Brehen sadly shook his head. "Any successful warlord of Iom would claim to be serving Iom's will, whatever his true feelings toward the god."

"Oh. I guess that's probably true." She scuffed at the floor with her staff for a moment, then straightened herself up and said, "Well, at least it's something to start on. Thank you."

She began to walk off, Rohde following behind, when Brehen called after them, "Have you reconsidered letting me go?"

Natasha instinctively clutched her arm tighter, more protectively around her womb. "We're not ever letting you out where you can try to hurt my baby again. Not ever. Do you hear me?"

"I wouldn't -"

"You're a murderer of innocent children!" she cried. "I don't care what sort of future vision you use as an excuse for that. You're in that cell because it's what you deserve, and because we won't endanger my baby, or anyone else's, by letting you go."

As she walked away, she willed her ears not to hear anything more that he might say. The very sound of his voice made her tremble with loathing, and loathing wasn't an emotion that she liked to wallow in.

"I don't trust him," Rohde muttered.

After that encounter, Rohde's words came as a relief. "You noticed it, too?"

"Noticed?" he echoed. "I didn't notice anything in particular. Just a feeling about him. What did you notice?"

They turned a corner, heading towards the dining room. She was feeling hungry, and that meant Carla definitely needed some substance. As far as she could tell, Rohde hadn't eaten recently, either.

She took a moment to look at Rohde as she answered him. "So many of his visions are about violence and suffering, he said." She shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. There just isn't that much pain and suffering in the world. Before Woldol came, it was pretty much peace in Cypress, Iom, Sharland, Emild, and Tyber for a long time. They've had human sacrifice here in Iom, but unless one of Brehen's dreams happened right near one of the main shrines to Iom, he wouldn't have even a chance of seeing one. Even if the world is much more violent and terrible in the future..." She shivered briefly. "...it still can't be _that_ bad. If there were constant war, eventually people would die out. There have to be at least brief spells of peace. Most of the world's history has been peaceful. So why does Brehen see war, violence, and suffering so much? And why doesn't he even realize himself how strange that is? You'd think he'd notice that before anyone."

Rohde grunted. "He's a fraud, then. I should have known."

"No, I don't think he's a fraud. I mean, he _could_ be, but..." She sighed. "He did know about Amelo somehow. But something is definitely wrong about him. I wonder if... it's kind of a silly idea, but... I wonder if his madness affects his visions. Maybe his visions _would_ be completely accurate, but his mind distorts them with violence and killing." They stepped into the dining room. "I definitely need to think this over. Maybe Deanna can help me figure it out when he gets back."

"Figure out what? You know you and Deanna could never have a mass murderer for a kid."

"Maybe." She tenderly stroked her womb. "But maybe the only part of Brehen's dream that's wrong is the Cloud of Iom being our child."


	32. Chapter 32: Necessary Departures

- Chapter 32: Necessary Departures -

Nick was seated at his desk, nearly finished with his letter to the king of Sharland, when there was a knock at the door. "Nick?" Mayfair's voice called, as though uncertain whether he was in his study or not.

"You may enter," he said, not looking up. His focus remained on scrawling out the last words of the letter.

He heard Mayfair open the door, then close it behind her. "Nick, I'm really not comfortable wearing this dress."

He glanced up to see exactly what she meant, and couldn't restrain a wince.

The dress he'd had the castle tailors pick out for her didn't make Mayfair look unsightly; not in the conventional sense, at least. In fact, Nick expected most would say that she had never looked half as lovely.

The trouble was the dress's relative immodesty. "Relative" being the operative term, for aside from her hands and face it didn't reveal the slightest bit of skin, nor did it exactly cling to her curves. However, it failed to obscure and muffle the curve of her hips, the fullness of her breasts, and the slimness of her arms the way her usual clothing did. The details of her more impressive physical assets were not discernible, but it was clear that she had them.

That bothered Nick for two reasons. One was that Mayfair didn't look like herself in the dress. The quiet chastity of her appearance was part of what made her beautiful, in his opinion. Ironic though it was, in more flattering attire she looked more common.

The second, and far less commendable reason for his wincing, was the thought of others being able to see those attractive features that she had always concealed so well. Mayfair was hardly a beauty, but she was far more of a woman than anyone save himself noticed. In what Nick recognized as a petty and selfish impulse, he wanted his wife's loveliness to be appreciated by no eyes but his.

Neither reason truly mattered. Setting his pen aside, he rose from his desk to clasp Mayfair's shoulders.

"You look lovely," he said, inwardly amused that the statement was both true and a lie. "Don't listen to your instincts with regard to your appearance. You know as well as I do that your judgment in that area is quite poor."

"That's not why I'm uncomfortable," she returned, plucking at the skirt. "This dress... it's too immodest, Nick. I feel shameful."

"Don't. I assure you, it is more prim and modest than what any of the women in Sharland's court will be wearing."

"I believe you. But that doesn't keep me from feeling embarrassed," she said with a slight laugh. "Why can't I just wear my usual dress?"

"Because you are not just representing yourself; you are representing all of Cypress," he said, not allowing her pleasant manner to make him waver. "The people of Sharland place a high value on physical appearance. If you hide your beauty, they will not respect you. And they cannot respect Cypress if they do not respect Cypress's queen."

"My beauty?" Mayfair echoed, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You certainly won't steal any hearts with your looks, but you are pleasant enough to look upon," he returned, lightly rubbing his hands over her shoulders. "I wouldn't have married you otherwise."

"I see." She lowered her gaze, and he finally released his grip on her. "Nick... Are you sure you won't need my help here? You were wise enough not to reveal it to our guests, but a large part of Cypress's army is still scattered about the country, aiding the innocent and securing justice. And as you pointed out, Castle Cypress is within striking distance of Emild. We're much more vulnerable to an attack from them than you described."

"Of course." He couldn't have told Muriel that he'd sent the better part of his army off on missions of charity; _she_ would have understood, but her brother Saul and their father would think him foolish. "But as you might have guessed, I anticipated that despite my best efforts, a war with Emild might break out. I have made preparations, and both the training you've given our recruits and the defensive system you laid out for this castle will be just as effective in your absence. You should also remember that I am not incapable of commanding an army myself. And the festival would of course have to be postponed in any case, I'm afraid. You are an invaluable asset, Mayfair, but in this case I am determined that we will survive without you. I won't have my heir placed at risk." He gave her a half smile. "And for the moment, where my heir goes, you go."

She returned the smile, her eyes shining with a charming liveliness. "It is good, if unsurprising, to hear that you have matters well in hand." The smile, the brightness in her eyes, abruptly faded. "Nick... I'm worried about the children."

It was unnecessary for her to specify who she meant.

"Mayfair..." He took hold of one of her hands. "I promise you, I will do everything in my power to ensure they are returned safe and sound to Castle Cypress."

She started. "You... promise?"

"They obviously mean a lot to you; losing them would make you unhappy. I don't want that." He shook his head. "Not after how well you've served Cypress."

That was true, but of course, it was also a lie. Lady Sarah was too important to let her die, and saving her would most likely involve saving her team of guards as well. The fact that he'd be sparing Mayfair some suffering in the bargain was merely a pleasing side effect.

To his surprise, she pulled away from him. "Nick... no. I haven't served Cypress well. I've failed you, and the trust you placed in me."

"What are you talking about?"

"The guard who deserted Castle Cypress to join Lady Sarah's group, Binuto." Her face crinkled; it looked like she was actually holding back tears. "I _knew_ he was becoming rebellious, and that he wanted to be part of that mission more than anything. He even willfully insulted me. And I allowed my fondness for him to cloud my judgment of his character. Because I trusted him, his recklessness may have caused Lady Sarah and the others to be taken prisoner in Emild." Leaning over the chair by his desk, she held onto it, trembling. "You shouldn't have trusted me to guide them, and you certainly shouldn't have relied on me to decide which of them to send on important missions such as the expedition to Emild."

Nick stared at her for a moment, then snapped, "You're being ridiculous. First of all, we have no indications that this Binuto has done any harm. Even if he has, it's a simple fact that people make mistakes. Don't presume to think that you are any more immune to error than I am."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologize." He had to take a deep breath to rein in his temper. The diffidence Mayfair had been occasionally demonstrating of late irritated him; he had selected her as Cypress's ideal queen in large part because of her strong will, her defiance. Had he married her, Muriel would never have defied him, not even if he was dead wrong. For Mayfair to cast aside that unique virtue so soon after taking on the royal diadem made him feel like he'd been swindled.

She reached a gentle hand towards him. "Nick, I -"

"Don't you dare apologize," he repeated, catching her by the wrist. "You were right, about all of them. I objected to sending Halron as part of the mission. You sent him anyway, and you were right; he hasn't betrayed them or lost control. I objected to sending Theo. You still chose him, and again you were right; Claude told us there has been no trouble between him and Halron. They all made it safely to Emild's capital. Had you made even one wrong choice in selecting that team, they would have perished against the raiders Claude told us about.

"You judged right on all of them. I would have chosen wrong. Things haven't gone as I hoped in Emild, but they are far from the worst they could be. Thanks to you, we are now in a position where we can justifiably oust King Ian from the throne." A few strands of hair had fallen across Mayfair's face when he grabbed her wrist. He brushed them aside. "Don't apologize for that. This is exactly the sort of thing that I need you for as my general and queen."

"...You honor me."

"You honor yourself," he retorted, releasing her wrist and turning away. "I merely acknowledge your accomplishments."

"Do you truly mean it, that you'll do everything in your power to bring Theo, Varmo, Halron, Dawn, Jaha, and Lana back safely?"

"If I did not, I would not have promised it."

"You have a good heart, Nick." He felt her lay a hand on his shoulder. "That's why I agreed to marry you."

He swallowed. "You married me because it was your duty to Cypress," he reminded her.

"That is true. But if anyone but you were king, I wouldn't have considered it my duty to be queen. You said I was the best choice for the position... and because you have a good heart, I could trust you on that. You wouldn't have lied just because you desired me for yourself, or any other petty reason. With almost anyone else, even if I could trust him that far, I couldn't be sure that my being queen would be good for the people of Cypress. _You _are the one with royal blood; _you_ are the one who has trained to be king; it is only through your guidance and approval that I can help the people. And because you have a good heart, selflessly devoted to your people, I could trust you to help me accomplish that."

Nick chuckled, but it came out somewhat feeble. His whole body was tense, fearing a confession of infatuation for him. _No. Sweet Cypress, no. Gyan can't have been right. _"My queen, I already have everything I want. I can _afford_ to be selfless. It costs me nothing."

"Yes, you have everything you want," she agreed. "But you don't wallow in it. You devote your energy to the people instead."

Forcing himself to relax, he sat down and let out a sigh. "Everything you've said is just as true of my father. You could have trusted him."

Mayfair winced. "That's another thing. There are few men that I could stand being married to without love. I know I've complained to you about how hard this is for me, but with any lesser man, it would be unbearable." She shook her head. "Even if it was my duty to be queen, I could never have married a man like your father. The misery of such a marriage would have made me useless to Cypress. To help others, one must have some small measure of happiness of one's own. If nothing else, I can at least smile whenever I see you with Barro, or at times like now." A smile pinched up the corners of her mouth. "I'm glad you care about our soldiers."

He brushed a hand through his hair. _It doesn't sound like the hints of an infatuation for me... but I can't be sure._ "You had better go," he said. "Muriel must be waiting for you by now."

She looked at him a moment longer, then nodded. "I will write to you, as I said."

"I already look forward to hearing from you," he said, with a half-smile.

She left.

There was silence, stillness, for what felt like an interminable time, though it was barely a minute. Then Nick shot to his feet and slammed his fist into the wall.

_Nothing. Gods of light, I feel nothing! No guilt, no regret, no anxiety..._

He unclenched his fist, ashamed of his outburst as he was ashamed of his lack of emotion. _"You have a good heart..."_ _Sweet Cypress, the irony. That she would say that right as I prove it false. If father were here, he would laugh at me._

"Nick?" Gyan pushed his way into the room without knocking, an acutely worried look on his face. "Nick, are you alright?"

"Fine... fine." He took a moment to steady himself. Gyan reached out to catch his shoulder, supporting him. "The funny thing is... it's the fact that I'm perfectly fine that bothers me." He chuckled, and firmly pushed Gyan's hand off of him.

"All right, what's going on?"

"Relax," he said, sitting back down. He felt guilty for having upset Gyan so much over something so little. "I was just having a little moment of frustration with myself."

"Nick, you never have moments of frustration with anything," Gyan said with a frown. "Not like that, at least."

"That's because I used to think that I have no obligation to try to protect the pawns I move across the board. Then Hindel died." He stared out the window of his study. "Guilt consumed me. I assumed that guilt came not only because I treated Hindel unfairly and failed his trust in me, but because I regretted having put him at risk in the first place. But now... I don't feel guilty at all for putting Mayfair at risk. Or even concerned."

"Well, this is one of your plans, isn't it? You wouldn't settle for a plan that puts someone as important as Mayfair at more than minimal risk. I know _I'm_ not concerned."

"Mayfair should be more than just 'important' to me. I've been close to her for this long... I should care about her by now, as a person."

"I think you do. You're just not emotional about it."

"I want to be emotional about it," Nick said, getting back up. "At the least, I want to be emotional about _someone_."

"Where are you going?" Gyan followed after him.

"I'm meeting with Claude."

As they made their way to his bedroom, Gyan said, "You realize you're fixating on yourself so much that you're finding flaws you don't have, don't you? Really, Nick, you're starting to sound like Mayfair. She's a perfectionist for her talents; you're turning into a perfectionist for your emotions."

"You don't know that, Gyan. How could you know?"

They stepped out onto the balcony. Claude was waiting.

The birdman opened his mouth to speak, but Gyan continued to debate, "I'm starting to wonder if this isn't just about Mayfair. You're starting to realize that she does have feelings for you, aren't you? Maybe you're just feeling guilty that you don't return those feelings."

Nick folded his arms, still looking at Claude rather than Gyan. "Claude, you're Mayfair's friend. Do you think she's in love with me?"

Claude looked back and forth between the two of them, clearly mystified. "You've known Mayfair for a year now, Nick, and she's never been a woman to bottle up her emotions. If she were in love with you, she would have said so by now."

Nick turned and gave Gyan a smug look, but he just snorted and folded his arms. "Who said she fell in love with you a year ago? This is recent news."

"Why don't I just point out that Nick isn't her type, and move on past this juvenile gossip?" Claude sighed. "Your Majesty, you wanted me to see you about the second half of my orders?"

"Yes." He paused. "I've made up my mind. Unless there is a clear and immediate danger to your charges, you are not to reveal yourself, or take any action that might lead others to suspect your presence. And I do mean clear and immediate. Anything less than a direct threat to their lives is completely according to plan."

"Understood." He fixed Nick with an accusing look. "You didn't take my advice, did you? You didn't tell Mayfair."

"I never promised I would," he said, gazing back steadily. "I made the right decision. She's been spared needless worry."

"That's not why you did it. You did it for yourself. You didn't want to face her reaction." Despite his words, Claude didn't sound indignant at all, only disappointed. "Is that all?"

"Yes. You are dismissed."

----------------------

"Yes?"

Already the strange chill in the air was making Leifo's bones groan. He kept shifting his limbs, trying to drive it out. "I thought you might be interested to know that Deanna came here with two companions, apparently to rescue Prince Amelo. We captured him."

There was a pause, and then a hollow chuckle. "You see now, dear Leifo, how attempting to control the monarchy of Iom has only worked _against_ Iom's will. Deanna's allies in the capital are no doubt already on their way here. If not, they will be when they realize he has disappeared."

"You're wrong," Leifo said brightly. "Deanna was delivered to us by a man named Wallor, who has been with Deanna ever since the capital. Not only has Deanna not contacted them since then, but he never even told them he was headed for this shrine. By the time they check here, Amelo will be crowned king, and they will be powerless."

Seeming to take the mention of his coronation as permission to speak, the boy at his side announced, "I'm cold. Can't we go back upstairs?"

He looked silently upon the boy. _Cold, he says... but it's more likely fear. After all, how could he not be afraid of my associate? How could anyone not fear him, even if it's a completely illogical fear?_

"I brought you down here to introduce you to this... person, my prince," Leifo said. "His very existence is a testament to the power of our god. We go upstairs when we are done speaking to him, and not before."

"So, you've brought the boy with you," the unseen speaker said with interest. "Are you prepared for your coronation yet, little boy?"

"Not yet," Leifo answered for him. "We just found him, remember. We've barely had time to begin."

"Then you must take him and Deanna elsewhere before our enemies arrive."

"I already told you, they don't even know they're here!"

"So you say. But it is never good to take chances. I told you not to take this course of action, my high priest. I told you to focus efforts on Emild. Have the visitors from Cypress been captured?"

"We haven't had word of that yet, no. But our messenger knows how to take care of them. King Ian is very easily manipulated at this point, he tells me."

A sigh came from the darkness. "Until the Cypressians are captured, we cannot risk taking King Ian's siblings. Until we take King Ian's siblings, the ritual cannot be completed. You are failing again, my dear Leifo."

"Everything is in place; we just need to wait for their arrival in King Ian's court," Leifo said, struggling to contain his temper. "What more can you want?"

"I wanted this done before attracting the attention of people who might prevent it. You've ruined that by getting Deanna involved."

"Then I take it you have no interest in his capture." _Damnation. I thought this would earn his approval, not his derision._ "We'll simply have him sacrificed to Iom, then."

"No." The word came with such cold surety that it drove all the courage from Leifo's voice, stilling him to silence. "Deanna is one of Mayfair's children. He may serve as bait for her, and also as a lesson. When the queen of Cypress is taken, I want to demonstrate to her how all the effort and sacrifice she made on behalf of her children amounts to nothing in the end."

There was a pause there, but Leifo still couldn't find his voice. He glanced down at Amelo, who was looking back up at him in confusion.

"And yes, dear Leifo, that is a whim of mine. But you will see that it is satisfied, or I will convey a complaint about all your failings directly to Iom. In the meantime, do take care to send Deanna and your delightful little prince away from here. If the forces in the capital find either of them here, I won't be responsible for what they do to you. You make a convenient gatherer of information, Leifo, but Iom can find a replacement even for you."

"Yes, I'll do that," the priest said quickly. "Come along, Amelo."

The boy frowned. "You took me all the way down here and we aren't even gonna see him?"

"Watch your tone of voice, my prince," he smiled at him, and Amelo retreated a step. "We can't see him because his aura is deadly. We place our lives at risk if we go any closer. Do you understand?"

The boy looked too frightened to speak up again.

"Well... come along now. Your mother must be anxious to be reunited with you by now -" The boy's eyes lit up. "- and then I'll have to find someone to escort you to a place where you can be crowned in safety. I think our friend there has a point, after all."


	33. Chapter 33: Prisoners of War

- Chapter 33: Prisoners of War -

There were only two empty cells available in which to detain the 11 visitors from Cypress, so their captors had no choice but to put them three or four to a cell. Even that could only be accomplished by transferring Chester, who had apparently been confined to a cell of his own up until then, to a cell with two other inmates. This didn't seem to bother the Emild guards much, and they threw the Cypress party into cells apparently at random, though Halron suspected that it was not by accident that Lady Sarah and Sergeant Dawn were put into separate cells.

Curiously, they seemed to lack any sort of shackles or muzzles to keep magic users from speaking. Instead, during the day a mage patrolled up the row of cells every once in a while to cast Dispell on the three magic users they had captive, his eyes drooping with boredom every time he came to do his business. At nighttime he simply used a Sleep spell to set them off to deep slumbers. Guards kept watch over them at night, no doubt ready to shout out to the mage if any of them tried waking the mages. It was an awful lot of manpower that could have been saved by simply throwing muzzles over anyone who might cast a spell.

Halron wished they could have put him together with Varmo; there were things they ought to talk over. Still, he couldn't complain too much about his companions: he was sharing his cell with the Lady Sarah, one of her attendants, and Grawler. A decent bunch, and he was certainly grateful to have not been placed with Binuto. Boarding with Theo would have been awkward as well.

"It's that bloody traitor's fault!" Grawler burst out on their first morning in Emild prison. "It was all an act - he and that Akron fellow must have planned this together!"

Lady Sarah gave him an unreadable glance. "I can see how that might seem an obvious conclusion to you, given your background, but there's precious little logical evidence for it. Take a moment to consider that if Akron indeed wanted us imprisoned regardless of guilt, that little scene between Halron and Binuto would be completely unnecessary. There are far easier ways to create false evidence."

"I beg your pardon, my lady, but we already know the guy came along with you all just to try and off Halron here. I don't think we owe him any trust."

"No," Halron interrupted in a firm tone.

Grawler turned to him and broke into a scowl. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I think Binuto told the truth. I think he really was concerned that I might betray you all. Yes, he could well have been lying, but we can't be sure of it."

"That's certainly an odd thing for _you_ to say."

He shrugged. "My hate and anger is gone, since I realized the others could accept me. I'm still angry at Binuto, but not in the way I was before. My conscience wouldn't let me live with it if I had him convicted for crimes he didn't commit."

"You were awfully suspicious of him before today."

"That was before I considered that he might be suspicious of me." He chuckled. "I suppose I've even earned the suspicion, a little bit. I did threaten to kidnap King Nicholas's cousin, after all."

Grawler's eyes perked up. "Well, now. This little group gets more interesting every minute! Care to -"

"No."

----------------------

"I've got a theory," Dawn said, studying the walls of their cell.

"Please, do share," Varmo said, scooting his legs up to himself. His tone was agreeable, while hinting at a dissatisfaction with anything that wasn't a step towards freeing them from their current situation. Their cell stank, and it was only going to get worse; Jaha was at that moment relieving himself in the bucket they'd been provided.

Dawn looked at Varmo. "Akron might be an Iom worshipper. We got rid of Gordon during the war with Iom, but we never considered that while he was posing as Emild's king, he might have appointed other Iom worshippers as officials."

"Wouldn't Emild's upstanding lords and officials have taken care of that?"

"Not if he was careful. If Gordon placed people like Akron in places of low authority, but where they could easily advance, no one would think to suspect them. They could lay low until the hunt for Iom worshippers in Emild's court died down, and then make their way to the top. May did say that Akron advanced very quickly through the hierarchy."

"True." He thought for a moment. "If this theory of yours happens to be right, why is Akron guiding King Ian into doing all these foolish things? Why not have Emild play it smart, so he can extend Iom's influence?"

"I'm not sure... But I'm guessing Akron's sway over King Ian isn't that strong. He can direct Ian's paranoia against Iom's enemies, but he can't make him give up that paranoia. And it's bad news for Cypress if we have to go to war with Emild. That may be all he's after."

"If Emild is going down, they might as well try and take Iom's greatest enemy down a peg in the process, hmm?" He brushed a hand over the fur on his head. "What can we do about it, then? It's not as though we have proof that Akron worships Iom."

"Hey," Jaha piped in. "Once May hears about this, she'll have us out in no time, right?"

"Good grief, Jaha," Dawn said, slapping a hand over her face. "This is why you need to learn to pay attention when important people are speaking. One, Akron has more influence over King Ian than May does, and two, May only holds influence so long as she doesn't show that she trusts us. For the love of Cypress, don't say a word about May to the guards, or anyone! You'll just get her in trouble along with the rest of us."

"Okay, okay. Sheesh." He paused. "How about Chester, then? Is his influence stronger than Akron's?"

Dawn clenched her teeth and deliberately turned to face away from Jaha, each step of her hooves sounding like a door being firmly closed.

"...What?" Jaha looked to Varmo. "Any idea what her problem is?"

Restraining a chuckle, the kyantol answered, "We've just been imprisoned, possibly facing a rather long sentence, all for a crime we didn't commit. Wouldn't you expect Dawn to be a little testy?"

"I guess," he said, scratching his head just beneath the rim of his pot. "If 'testy' means what I'm guessing it does. Hey... you hear guards coming?"

"You recognize the sound of _guards coming this way_?"

Jaha grinned. "Me and Dawn invaded Iom, remember?"

As Jaha predicted, in a few moments a quartet of guards approached their cell. The one in the lead looked carefully over the inmates and then pointed to Varmo. "That one. Yes, you. Approach the door; the rest of you convicts, stand back."

A massive lump clogged his throat. Praying that he could at least keep from trembling, he did as they said. The lead guard pushed a key into the lock. "Wh-what's this all about?" he said in a high-pitched tone.

"Sir Akron wants to see you," the lead guard replied, declining to join in the snickering of his companions.

_Sir Akron? Then I'm not being brought to trial yet... What, then? It can't be an interrogation, can it? Akron's an advisor, not an inquisitor!_

He stepped outside, saying nothing as each of his arms was grasped by a guard.

"Hey, wait," Jaha stepped forward. "Take me with him."

"Sir Akron wants this one and no others," the lead guard said harshly, closing the cell door.

The guards led him down the prison corridor, passing by the cell where Theo, Lana, and Binuto were held. The three of them shot to their feet at the sight of him being led away.

Theo looked comically confused. "Wait, where are you taking...?"

"You're with them!" Lana shouted, her face stretched into a gasp of shock and anger. "Varmo, you... you lousy traitor!"

Binuto threw him a bitter smile. "I guess when the morning light comes is when we really see our true colors, isn't it?"

Varmo stared at them, and shrugged. "What could I have to offer Akron or Emild?"

It was a deceitful defense, he knew, which ignored the fact that the only clear, reasonable explanation why Akron would want to see him personally is that he was a traitor. But the only other thing he could do was ask for their trust. And trust was not something he had earned.

----------------------

In the midst of lunch, Emilia crawled out of her seat and over to Ian's, taking him by the hand. "Ee-an, come on. I want to meet the people from Cypress. I've heard what everyone's saying; they've already been here a whole day! Come on! I've never seen people from Cypress before!"

Ian swallowed. "They're gone, Emilia."

"Gone?"

"They... they murdered Sir Elric. Obviously in an attempt to prevent their co-conspirator, Chester, from being punished for his crimes."

Emilia stared at him. "But... you don't believe that. They wouldn't. Killing Sir Elric couldn't make what Chester did go away."

"I do believe it, Emilia. They may have had other reasons for murdering Sir Elric. And truth be told, I'm relieved that I don't have to worry about dealing with them anymore."

"But... won't they..."

"Declare war? Most likely." He sighed, laying his chin in his hand. "It's simpler to deal with them that way."

"Ian, no! You can't let that happen! All those people, dying..."

"They murdered father, Emilia. I have to avenge that." He held Emilia's little head against his chest and looked up at Kay, Marlin, and Helen. "More importantly, I have to protect the three of you from them."

"But you can't protect us this way!" She pulled away from him. "If we fight them, we'll lose!"

"Relax, Emilia," Marlin said, popping a baby onion into his mouth. "You've got to trust Ian. He always takes care of us. If those rotters ever come here, he'll chase them right back to Cypress."

Emilia seized a roll from the table and flung it at Marlin, beaning it off his head. "That's so stupid! You don't understand anything about it, Marlin! Even if we could -"

Marlin leaped out of his seat and dived around the table. "You little brat! I'm trying t'be nice to you and -"

"Eeeeeee-an!" she screamed, clinging to her eldest brother.

"Go to your room, Marlin!" Ian snapped.

Marlin gaped at his brother. "But... Don't you see what she's doing? She started it! She's the one causing all the trouble and then she just -"

"Go to your room. Not one... not one more word."

Kay stood up. "Ian, I've about had it with our little sister getting away with -"

"Shut up, Kay." The king turned to glare at him. "You two are older. You're supposed to be more responsible. Do you have any idea how much it aggravates me every time you two reach out to strangle her whenever she so much as sticks out her tongue? Why can't you simply be nice to her?"

"She's old enough, too!" Marlin said. "Even if she's still a little kid, Emilia understands all these things! She knows what she's doing. And the nicer I am to her, the more she spits in my face! I'm sick of it!"

Helen came forward and took Marlin firmly by the shoulder. "Ian said not one more word, Marlin. Let's go."

Marlin sullenly obeyed, putting one foot in front of the other. He could hear Helen following behind to make sure he went to his room as he was supposed to.

_This is so... so... stupid! I try to keep Emilia from getting Ian upset, and I'm the one who gets in trouble! All because Emilia - Emilia, not me - insults me and throws things at me! I hate her!_

It did occur to him that less than a week ago, he had hated Kay more, but that didn't matter to him now. He'd tried being nice to Emilia, and she'd been nothing but mean to him in return. It made him feel tight in his chest, and... light on his feet?

Startled, he looked up and realized that Helen was lifting him up by the front of his shirt. She held him firmly against the wall. "H... hey! You can't -"

"I had thought that after that last incident, the three of you had learned your lesson," Helen said, her eyes glaring so deeply into his that he couldn't hold back a shiver. "So let me be perfectly clear about this for you. Regardless of how either Emilia or Kay provokes you, if you _ever_ give His Majesty cause for aggravation again, so help me, I will make you regret the day you were born. Do you understand me?" He couldn't speak. "And before you even think about telling Ian about this, I suggest you consider whether you honestly believe that you've earned your brother's trust the way I have."

She set him down and walked away. It was only then that Marlin realized he was right by the door to his room.

Strangely, even over the shock and fear trembling in his heart, Marlin felt angry at himself. Helen was right; the night that Ian broke down in front of them, he had told himself he'd never fight with his siblings again, no matter what. And that hug Emilia gave him had felt so good, he'd thought nothing could make him want to hurt a hair on her head. Now he'd already broken those promises.

_And maybe... maybe Emilia wasn't really being so mean. She must still be upset about father... father dying... and she's afraid the Cypressians will take Ian too._

He sighed and went into his room, closing the door behind him. It was too late for apologies now. And after all, it _had_ been Emilia's fault.

----------------------

The guards led Varmo to an expansive, comfortable study. Massive bookshelves lined two walls, and bright windows lined a third. Before these windows was a desk set at dwarf height, and seated at it was Akron himself, writing on a piece of paper. A letter, Varmo speculated.

"Very good," Akron said, looking up. "Leave us, but see to it that we are not disturbed."

The guards shuffled awkwardly, looking at Varmo. "Sir, don't you think -"

"The dispell magic was reapplied to him before bringing him here, was it not?" The dwarf smiled. "I dare say I have nothing to fear from an adolescent mage with no magic. Now, leave us."

The guards shrugged and obeyed, closing the heavy doors behind them. Varmo gave an involuntary jump at the sound, and the quiet of the room - so striking after the constant talk and groans of despair in the prison - did not put him more at ease.

Akron smiled at him. "Varmo, my good fellow, do come in. Take a seat."

There was a chair waiting for him on the side of the desk opposite Akron, and not seeing anything better to do, Varmo stepped forward and took it. The back was cushioned, and the touch of comfort, so out of place in his situation, made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"Would you care for some wine?" Akron reached behind him and opened up a small cabinet that was filled with a half dozen wine bottles. "I have every sort of wonderful vintage here. Caperni, Bijonum..."

Bijonum? A Cypress import? Considering Akron's obvious attitude towards Cypress, that seemed odd. But it was indeed an impressive list of wines, most unavailable in Cypress, so he couldn't resist asking for one of the bottles native to Emild. With a pleased grin, Akron uncorked it and poured them each a glass.

"A toast to Emild, my friend?"

Varmo hesitated, but fear won out over loyalty. Besides, what would it hurt? "To Emild," he agreed, and they sipped together from their glasses. The wine tasted fresh and delightful, like none he'd had before.

Akron nodded at his glass. "Good?"

"Marvelous, thank you."

The king's advisor leaned back. "Well, I suppose you're wondering what I wanted to talk to you about. Let me get right to the point: I have an offer for you. First, we can have you, and each and every one of your companions, delivered safely back to Cypress, with an official apology. Second, we can have that trade agreement your king has proposed signed, with no fuss. And third, we can have you placed in a distinguished leadership position within Castle Cypress. How does that strike you?"

Varmo adjusted himself more comfortably in his seat, working to find his sense of calm. He took a sip of wine. "Leaving aside the question of how you can do _any_ of that, what do you want from me? The first two things you offered are of major benefit to Emild, but you wouldn't have had us arrested in the first place if you... desired them. So what do you plan to gain from this?"

A puff of breath came from Akron's lips, like a fighter who has just admitted defeat. "Let's be honest, Sir Varmo. You and your companions were accused in haste. I'm sure you can understand my mistake now that you've had a chance to calm down; the circumstantial evidence against you all was incredible. But of course it makes no sense that you'd all be gathered together like that. Sir Elric was killed by a wound from a bladed weapon, so what need would his killers have for a mage, a healer, and most ludicrous of all, that ultimate enemy of stealth, a centaur? Obviously I failed to think things through before having you arrested, and now, I am quite sure that with a more careful investigation we shall soon find the true culprit. King Ian is at heart a most reasonable and honest man, so I am sure I will have no trouble convincing him to go along with my offer once those things are cleared up. And you, of course, will be appointed to a leadership position by your own King Nicholas the Second..."

"Why should he do such a thing?" Varmo said, a bit more eagerly than he'd intended. The very mention of that part of the offer set his heart racing.

Akron's eyes lit up with obviously feigned surprise. "Why, my friend, you are the hero of this expedition! The lot of you were facing a very real danger of execution when I summoned you to my study, trying to bribe and coerce you into testifying against your comrades. You stoutly refused, and persuaded me of the error of the arrest, negotiating with me for the release of the Lady Sarah and her escort and the signing of the trade agreement. You took the utter failure of the expedition and turned it into a complete success. If he doesn't appoint you as a leader, I can't imagine who he _would_ appoint."

Varmo was speechless. His dream, again within reach... _No. It has to be a trick. Remember Dawn's suspicions._

He sipped at his wine again. "Why... why give me the credit?"

"Why not? It costs me nothing. Besides, I would like to have a friend in the court of Cypress. It would make relations so much easier. And the Lady Sarah just wouldn't do; she's too cold and unforgiving. You can help me improve relations between our nations, and advance other fellows who I find helpful in the ranks of the court..."

Seeing his dream again go up in smoke, Varmo placed his glass of wine down on the desk. "You're asking me to be your puppet. To... to betray Cypress."

Akron blinked. "I don't recall saying any such thing. All I'm asking is a few favors for the friend who gave you your freedom and position... when he could just as easily have given you cold death. If you aren't willing to do that, it makes Emild's situation rather difficult. Admitting we were wrong is a dangerous diplomatic strategy, and it might be better if we just pretended to be certain of your guilt in Sir Elric's murder."

_Cold death._ Varmo couldn't help trembling. _Light help me, I'm so scared of... but it's treason he's asking for! I can't betray Cypress, the land of my birth. I can't betray strong, noble King Nicholas the Second. I can't betray Mayfair, our queen, always so kind to us all..._

"I can't do it," he said, struggling not to burst into tears. He couldn't even console himself with a feeling of righteousness or martyrdom, since his refusal was motivated by the simple fact that he didn't have the stomach to do what Akron was asking. In spite of himself, his forehead fell into his hands, though he managed to keep the tears and sobs from coming. "I just can't do it. Please don't..."

"My, how disappointing," Akron sighed, getting up to restlessly pace about the room. "You were our best hope. Most of your companions are too loyal. From what Helen tells me, Halron and Binuto have the potential to betray Cypress, but I doubt we could get even them to go along with this particular deal. They're not ones to cave in, I think. And that Grawler is a bandit; no one in Cypress would trust him. But don't fret, my good fellow." He reached up to pat Varmo on the back. Startled by the touch, he instinctively grabbed the edge of the desk and looked at Akron in alarm. The dwarf chuckled, and made his way back to his seat. "I have a secondary offer. One that should be much more palpable to your instincts towards Cypress." He paused to drink some of his wine.

"What... what was that about Halron and...?" He couldn't find a way to word his question. But that bit about Helen knowing Halron and Binuto in some way troubled him. He remembered May telling them that Helen was King Ian's old nurse. Did she fall into this somehow? And then, how did Akron know that he wanted to be a leader? Or that Grawler was a bandit? How did he know all those things?

"You are a valuable person, Sir Varmo," Akron said, looking him in the eye. "Much more so than any of your comrades. You're too easily unnerved, but aside from that, you make a good enough leader."

"How would you know?" Varmo demanded, taking another drink of wine to steady himself.

"A friend of mine was at Castle Cypress during your tenure as leader tempore there." He set his glass before him. "You see, I belong to a certain order which has members in nearly every corner of the world, and we have plenty of need for good leaders. I can easily have you spirited away from Emild to another country where our order is active, to serve as leader there. If you're concerned for your safety, I can have your friend Halron brought with you."

_It's true, then. He has his own agenda._ "That would be... desertion."

"Desertion simply means you're not an asset to Cypress anymore," Akron smiled. "In that sense, how is dying in Emild any better?"

He had something of a point. But the premise wasn't entirely true. If he deserted, there was no guarantee he wouldn't eventually have to act against Cypress, especially if this "order" Akron was referring to was devoted to the god Iom, as Dawn suspected.

_Damn it, this is so... confusing. Why does the good of Cypress have to conflict with my own good? Bad enough I had to put myself in the middle of violent battles for the good of Cypress, but sacrificing my life... I'm not the sort to..._

_But there it is again. No matter how much I want to turn traitor to save my own skin, I can't. Logically, it's ridiculously improbable, but I'm so afraid that if I take Akron's deal, sooner or later I'll run into General Mayfair again..._

And then he would have to face the disappointed look on her face, have to hear her say in a regretful tone, "I chose you for that mission. I believed in you."

Death might be more terrible than having to dread that encounter every day for the rest of his life, but it certainly wouldn't be anywhere near as interminable.

He finished his glass of wine, savoring every last drop. It was the sweetest wine he'd ever tasted, because he knew it would probably be his last.

"Alright," he said. "I'll think about it."

"I advise you to make your decision now," Akron replied. "I don't intend to spend all day waiting in the prison block for you to make up your mind, so it could be a while - as much as two days - between your deciding you want to see me and actually being in my company. Not a very pleasant place to spend your time in. Also, if you return to your cell, you may find some very suspicious comrades waiting for you."

"It's a very difficult decision. Especially since I don't even know anything about this order that you belong to."

"Ah. Natural that you would be curious." Akron sipped his wine. "Unfortunately, that information is restricted to members only. That this order even exists is knowledge shared with only a select few. You understand about secrets, I'm sure."

"Yes." _It fits. Akron must be an Iom worshipper. Why else would he keep that a secret?_ "As I said, then, I really must have more time to think it over."

"As you please," Akron shrugged, and summoned the guard to return him to his cell.


	34. Chapter 34: Jengh and Leifo

- Chapter 34: Jengh and Leifo -

"People of Cypress!" King Nicholas proclaimed in a voice of thunder and victory. "The war with Iom has ended, our borders have been cleaned of rebels and bandits, and the prosperity of even the smallest, most isolated village has been assured. Enjoy your golden age, my people, for I consider your happiness worth every drop of sweat and blood I gave to deliver it to you."

The people cheered, and dozens came forward to bow before the king and bring him gifts in tribute. Mayfair had the singular honor to stand beside him in his moment of triumph, and she beamed with joy at the untarnished happiness on his face. If anything satisfied her half as much as the good Nick had brought to Cypress, it was knowing that she would no longer have to see him toil and suffer at his work.

Nick took her by the hand and led her through the crowd, back through the castle gates. If there were any who doubted she was the right choice for his queen, it certainly did not show on their faces.

The noise of the crowd faded and silenced as they walked the halls towards Nick's private chamber. Mayfair heart pounded at the prospect of being alone with him, at coming to know him in a way that no one else could.

Then Nick let go of her hand.

"If you will excuse me, my queen, I would like some time to myself." He stepped into the room, closing the door in her face.

She stood there, stunned. In a moment she had been dismissed, abandoned, cut off from her king's company. In spite of herself, she slumped to the floor and began crying. All she had wanted was for him to just once say that he needed her, not as a healer, not as an advisor, not as a general, not as a queen, not as a mother for his children, but simply as someone to love him for who he was. But he had spurned her. She was too plain - in personality even more than in looks - to ever win his attention.

"Mommy?"

She looked up and saw a half dozen children standing around her, looking at her with concerned eyes. "Mommy, don't cry."

She held out her arms to them, forcing a smile, and they came to her. She hugged her dear children close, her heart overflowing at their sweet embrace.

----------------------

Perhaps the emotion of the moment was too strong, for Mayfair then awoke, sitting up in her comfortable seat in the carriage. Princess Muriel, across from her, continued to sleep. Only natural, since it was still the middle of the night.

Careful not to wake her, Mayfair climbed forward in the carriage and waved a hand to get the driver's attention. "You promised to wake me, good sir," she said, climbing up to sit beside him.

He looked at her uneasily. "Are you sure you want to trouble yourself, Your Majesty?"

"Quite sure," she said, taking the reins from him. "This sort of task isn't new to me. I wasn't born into royalty, or even into nobility. For that matter, even my husband is familiar with taking night watches, thanks to the civil war that plagued our country. It was my idea that we not stop at an inn for the night, so I will certainly not let others do all the toil. Please, get yourself some sleep."

The driver nodded, though with some hesitation. "You know the road?"

"As far as the next village, yes."

Which they should reach some time the following afternoon, Mayfair calculated as the driver took her place in the carriage. She had voted to travel through the night, partly to reach Sharland more quickly, partly as an excuse to sleep a good part of the day instead of conversing with Muriel.

Not that Muriel was an unpleasant person, of course. On the contrary, she seemed to share more than one of Nick's finer points. However, Nick had cautioned her that Muriel would likely consider her an easy target for verbal sparring of a sort, digging for weaknesses in Cypress's ruling body. Despite the advice and preparation Nick had given her for such a conversation, Mayfair wasn't sure she was ready, and she certainly didn't look forward to it, in any case.

Before the memory of it could flee her mind, she turned her thoughts to her dream. Dreams were important to study, and the subtle ways in which hers broke from reality were interesting, though the explanations for some were obvious. The ending of all Cypress's troubles was her fondest desire, so it was hardly a surprise to see it in her dreams. Gyan's absence, and her forgetting that the Royal Protector already knew Nick better than she ever could, was just a matter of her subconscious simplifying the view of her relationship to Nick.

_It's the fact that I thought of myself as being in love with him that's surprising. I have been leaning __towards such feelings __recently, but I'm certainly not there._

She would like to believe that her dream self being enamored with Nick was a reflection of her fear that she _would_ fall for him. There was plenty of reason to fear that. Nick was kind, dedicated, loyal, brave, and handsome. And his proposing to her had made her feel like a young woman for nearly the first time in her life.

That thought made her smile. _Nick could make even the most aged of crones feel like a young woman._

_But the truth is, I don't think I'm truly afraid of falling for him. No matter how much he may tempt my instincts, I know that my head will always remind me why my heart rejects Nick. So fear doesn't explain it. And my falling in love with Nick isn't ridiculous enough to be a simple random fantasy._

_It can only mean that I subconsciously want to be in love with Nick._

The theory immediately made sense to her. Being in love with him would take away much of the nagging feeling that marrying him had been wrong and, more importantly, allow her to believe she had a husband in the emotional sense. To share her bed without feeling shame, to allow Nick to put his arms around her after they had intercourse and be comforted rather than disturbed by his touch. To feel less alone.

_Wanting to not die alone... That's also why I had children in my dream, I'm sure. But that's the most curious difference of all between the dream and reality. I didn't notice it during my dream, but none of the children bore any resemblance whatsoever to Nick. Yet no one else could be the father, either; to betray Cypress by having an affair is unthinkable. So I was dreaming that I had children with no father._

_I want children, but I don't want them to come out of a loveless relationship. A problem with a solution that can only exist in a dream._

The night was breezy, and a particularly strong gust blew her hair into her face. Brushing it aside with a soft laugh, she decided to interpret that little misadventure as divine spirits reprimanding her for her half-truth. It was true that she would never want to have children by a loveless marriage, because of what they would suffer in that situation. She didn't want that, for her children's sake. But for her own sake, she very much _did_ want to have Nick's child. She was honored to think of his offspring growing inside her, and eager to watch Nick's fine traits mature outside of the blackening influence of his father. Nick, she had already realized, would be a far better father than Gadrios.

Mayfair adjusted her grip on the reins. The whole situation with her newly developing family was very confusing emotionally, and now it seemed she would have to face what was effectively a trial-by-fire of diplomacy in Sharland, something she still didn't feel prepared for. She wished Claude was with her. It seemed rather a cruel twist of fate that no sooner had Claude returned to Castle Cypress than she was compelled to leave.

A frown came over her, as she suddenly realized that Nick had never gotten around to explaining exactly what Claude's assignment had been.

----------------------

"Where are they!!?" Jengh bellowed into the high priest's face, holding him against the wall of the shrine by his neck.

Leifo twisted against his grip, and finally coughed so that he could breathe again. "If you could... give me their names again... I'm afraid I didn't quite catch..."

"You think you can play me for a fool!?" Jengh looked tempted to squeeze his neck harder, but perhaps it had dawned on him that Leifo needed air to give any answers. "Tell me where Sir Deanna and Prince Amelo are now, or I will make things as ugly for you as you have forced me to make them for this revered shrine."

"Lieutenant..." Leifo gasped, and Jengh slightly loosened his grip. "I have never heard of any Prince Amelo, and as you have noted, this is simply a shrine to our god. If you are seeking out Sir Deanna for whatever reason, all you had to do was have your soldiers do a systematic search of the building and pick him out from among the worshippers. There was no need to break down the doors and slaughter all the guards. This is, I repeat, a shrine; we owe no political loyalties to Deanna or anyone else."

Leifo didn't have to pretend to be confused; Wallor had assured him that no one knew where Deanna was or that he was looking for Amelo. Perhaps Yurligi had spoken to someone else about her son before meeting Deanna, but it was still rather strange that Jengh should recklessly barge into a shrine of Iom simply on the off-chance that the high priest might know where Deanna was.

Jengh sneered fiendishly, and Leifo's confusion and dismay both multiplied. "Don't bother trying to play games with me, little priest. Sir Deanna already informed us by letter that he was headed here, and the man you sent to kill his wife and child told us all of your plans and dealings with Prince Amelo."

Leifo went white.

"Now you will tell us exactly where Amelo, Deanna, and Deanna's companions are. He had with him a woman named Yurligi, a soldier named Lym, and a human healer named Wallor. Where. Are. They."

"All lies!" he burst out, sweat running over the sides of his face. "I've been set up! I sent no one to kill Deanna or his family! Deanna is a traitor who killed our ruler and -"

"Did you not just tell me that you have no political loyalties?" Jengh snarled. "So why would anyone want to set _you_ up?"

"H-how should I know? Perhaps -"

"Enough!" Jengh rapped the high priest's head against the wall. "Perhaps, if you're lucky, you'll convince some at your trial of your pitiful lies. But I cannot be fooled that way. Tell me where they are this instant, or I will make you watch as we slowly roast your innards."

Trembling, Leifo reminded himself of what it would mean to tell the lieutenant what he wanted to know. His team of soldiers were effective enough to capture the shrine, so they would undoubtedly overcome the party escorting Amelo and Deanna as well. Deanna, Yurligi, and Wallor, they could afford to lose. If they lost Prince Amelo, however... then he would have failed Iom again.

He decided to try partial cooperation. "Lym is dead," he breathed out, with an affected air of defeat. "The other four are on their way to witness Prince Amelo's coronation. I have no notion of where they are now."

"But you know where they're headed!" Jengh persisted. "Tell me where. _Now_."

Leifo hesitated.

With a roar of long-restrained fury, Jengh whirled around and flung Leifo against the opposite wall. Pain exploded through his body, the agony in his head claiming that his skull had been shattered, but he did not lose consciousness. Lying on the cold stone, blood flowing from his mouth, he could hear Jengh hissing his wrath at him.

"You think we'll jussst stand for it while you sssubject us lizardmen to your persssecutions again and again!? General Hindel offered usss more dignity than we've been allowed in decadesss. And you took him from usss! Then hisss brother Deanna comes, and allowssss my men to be treated with the sssame dignity hisss brother gave them. Deanna'sss wife, Natasha, treatsss us with kindnessss and forgiveness. And you think I'll let you take them away assss well!?"

"You have no choice," Leifo coughed. "Iom desires Deanna. If I reveal his location, I violate Iom's will... and I will never do that."

"You may change your mind after my inquisitor has had a few words with you," Jengh snarled.

One moment, Leifo's heart was pounding. The next, he felt himself letting out a breath of relief. Backed into a corner, he realized that he had had a defense all along. A timid smile crossed his mouth. "You can't... do that. If you harm the High Priest of Iom... you prove that the forces in the capital are enemies of our god."

"We prove only that we give traitors their just rewards."

"But can you convince the general populace that I am a traitor? I am confident that you cannot."

He watched Jengh consider that remark, praying to Iom that his guess was right, that they had no evidence against him that followers of Warderer wouldn't immediately chalk up as simple lies. Anything Deanna said, by letter or otherwise, was obviously suspect, and since Brehen was a complete unknown, they had nothing to even suggest that the prophet was not simply a confederate of theirs.

At last Lieutenant Jengh turned and gave a gesture to his men. "Bind him, and take him away," he said. "See to it that he is not harmed - for now. We will use our own means to locate Sir Deanna and Amelo."

"You can't keep me prisoner," Leifo protested.

"Can't I?"

"Once he is king, Amelo will not stand for it. He will see that you are punished for delivering such an indignity to Iom's high priest."

"Amelo will _not_ be king." Jengh smiled. "I promise you that."

----------------------

A knock at the door to her room at the inn awoke Mayfair. "One minute," she called, stretching her limbs as she pushed the blankets off.

Having to be woken up made her feel a bit ashamed, but then, she hadn't slept terribly well. The different accommodations didn't explain it, though they of course could not compare to the Cypress royal bed. She had, after all, spent much of her adult life going from one place of slumber to another every night: during the civil war, the war with Iom, and the pilgrimages she willingly made as general and then as queen. It was most likely worry that had spoiled her sleep, she concluded. She hated knowing that Cypress was in trouble and not being permitted to raise even a finger to aid her. Regardless of how capable Mayfair knew her king to be.

Once out of bed, it took her less than a minute to dress; while the outfit she'd brought was more ostentatious than she preferred, it at least took very little effort to put on. She wasted little time with brushing her hair, as well. Nonetheless, she felt contrite for the delay, and after opening the door she said to Muriel's attendant, "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

"Your Majesty...?" the attendant began, as though phrasing a question, but after a significant hesitation she finished, "...looks well this morning. Is there anything I can assist you with?"

"Nothing, thank you. I assume Princess Muriel is waiting for me?"

The attendant nodded, and led her downstairs, where Muriel was seated at a table. She wore an expression of cool patience.

"You're more quick than I expected," she remarked when she saw Mayfair coming. "Breakfast will not be ready for another few minutes."

Mayfair shook her head. "I don't need anything elaborate," she said, and turned to the man waiting on Muriel. "Could you have us brought some fruit? Thank you."

Muriel raised a brow at her as she seated herself. "We are royalty, you know. It's customary to ask for more than this."

"I don't want the trouble."

"You consider it trouble for others to serve you?"

Mayfair waited a few moments for the man to return with the plate of fruit. Taking a piece, she pointed out, "I am quite happy with food that could be brought to me the moment I wanted it. You are left dissatisfied, even if you antagonize the inn staff for not having your breakfast ready for you when you got out of bed. Is it not clear which of those two courses involves more trouble?"

Hearing herself, Mayfair realized her comments were a bit antagonistic; but then, that was how Nick had taught her to speak with the Sharland folk. Until she had good reason to believe that his methods weren't working, she had to trust his judgment.

With a smile, Muriel reached over and took her own piece of fruit. "A very philosophical view of things, Your Majesty, but I know from experience that the alternative makes things much simpler and more pleasant in the long run. A good queen does two important things. You already seem to have a good grasp of helping and providing for your people. The other thing, however, seems to elude you... and that would be indulging in the luxury of your position."

Mayfair grimaced. "That doesn't sound like a positive trait to me."

"It's the only way to stay sane and healthy enough to keep serving your people, is it not?"

"Of course not. I've served the people of Cypress all my life -though never quite as hard as I have since the royal diadem came to me, I will admit- and if anything, it is helping people that has kept me sane." She paused. "I really don't believe you're different from me in that way, Your Highness. You love helping people, don't you?"

The princess's eyes lowered to the table. "Shall we change the subject?"

That surprised her. "I'm sorry; did I offend you?"

"No; of course not. It's just that I don't enjoy talking about it. And we'll be in Sharland tomorrow..."

"Yes." She took a bite of fruit. "I've never been there. It's strange, making a trip that I'd so looked forward to under such terrible circumstances."

Muriel nodded. "One might call it... tragic."

"I wouldn't. It's the silver lining on the cloud, I think."

"I'm glad to hear you say so." She paused to allow a young girl to set before her a large breakfast with a warm aroma that wafted across to Mayfair's nose. Then she smiled, with a sort of playful smugness. "Would you like some, Your Majesty?"

"If there's too much of it for you to eat yourself, I wouldn't mind. I am content with what I have right now," she replied, taking another bite of fruit.

Muriel nodded and took a few bites of her meal before continuing, "A silver lining, indeed. I think you'll be very pleased with the hospitality we offer in Sharland. And it must be... heartening, as well, to know that King Nicholas is concerned enough for your safety to entrust you to our care."

Mayfair refused to allow her puzzlement show up on her face. _It was _her_ idea for me to be brought to Sharland. She practically coerced Nick into it! Should I point that out? Or go along with her version of events? What should I say I think of the decision?_

"Your Majesty?"

She blinked. "Forgive me; I didn't realize you expected me to respond to that. Yes, certainly His Glorious Majesty honors me with that gesture."

"Honors you?" Muriel echoed, and cracked a smile. "He asked you to marry him, did he not? Wouldn't it be more fitting to say that he cherishes you?"

"I believe His Majesty already informed you that he does not," Mayfair retorted, in a considerably colder tone of voice than she had intended.

"Ah, he told you of our conversation? So you tell each other everything." The princess sighed dreamily. "Exactly how a good marriage should be. I only wish that I had a love of my own that I could share everything with."

"You assume too much about our relationship, and why we are married." She kept her tone polite, but definitive.

"Oh." There was a pause. "Forgive me. When I saw the two of you together at dinner in Castle Cypress, it looked like he was quite taken with you."

It occurred to Mayfair that she hadn't asked Nick what she should tell Muriel about their relationship - whether they were in love, or not. And he hadn't told her. _Why? He must know me well enough by now to know that my first instinct is to tell the truth, but he can't possibly want me to do that, can he? He knows I can't act well; why didn't he explain to me that I would have to lie?_

"I was mistaken, then?"

Better to tell the truth, Mayfair decided; either way she would have to worry that she wasn't doing what Nick wanted, and at least that way she wouldn't have to worry about Muriel sensing her duplicity. "Yes, you were. But it's an understandable mistake," she said with a friendly smile. "Nick likes to pretend at being lovers. He thinks it makes a good image for the people."

"I suppose it does." She cocked her head slightly, a row of admirably pretty lines appearing on her forehead. "I wonder, then, why he didn't try harder to convince me of it? As you mentioned, he practically spelled out for me that he doesn't feel for you that way."

"He's an enigmatic sort of person."

Muriel smiled. "Yes. That's true."

----------------------

The sergeant gave Jengh the standard salute.

"Anything?" Jengh demanded.

"No, lieutenant. We couldn't have everyone properly interrogated, naturally, ssssince that would damage Ssssir Edwin'ssss reputation. But none of the people we talked to knew where Amelo or Ssssir Deanna are. Leifo covered their trackssss too well."

Jengh ground his teeth. "Then we can assume Deanna's captors have done the same. We'll have to use our brains, and come up with an educated guess as to where they would have taken them."

"Well, lieutenant... There issss one part of the ssshrine we haven't been able to enter and sssearch."

"What?" His eyes flashed to the sergeant's face. "What do you mean?"

"We were ssssyssstematically ssssearching the lower levelssss, the onessss not open to the public, and found five doorssss lined up. We gradually found the keysss to four of them, and found nothing important within, but the final one we haven't found a way to open yet."

He nodded. "Excellent work, sergeant. Most likely High Priest Leifo keeps the key in a place known only to him. That vile little priest may be able to keep Sir Deanna's location a secret, but we have official orders from the capital to search this shrine. If he does not cooperate with us in opening that door, then it is he who proves himself an enemy of Iom."

"And... you think we'll find Amelo and Ssssir Deanna in there?" the sergeant said hopefully.

"It's possible. But if Leifo knew in advance that we were coming, he would have sent them away from this shrine. We must keep our minds open for other possibilities."

He dismissed the sergeant and hurried off to where Leifo was being kept.


	35. Chapter 35: Next to Last Stand

- Chapter 35: Next to Last Stand -

Akron, seated at the desk, unsealed the message and read it over. It contained the news he'd expected - albeit not on this precise day.

"It's time, then," he murmured. "Only, which one to do first? Doing the whole lot at once might make Ian suspect a traitor. Then again, getting the others will be more difficult if he's forewarned..."

Thinking it over, he realized that he felt a great anticipation at the thought of King Ian's reaction. He actually trembled at the notion; what exactly King Ian would do was something he could not predict. And whatever his reaction, it would be all the stronger if it was a clean sweep. That would be more interesting, and it might serve his cause better as well.

He gave a rap on his desk, and an attendant poked her head in. "Yes, sir?"

"Have May brought to me."

* * *

Sergeant Gregor quivered when he looked to where the sentry, Amasia, was pointing. There was no denying that it was indeed an approaching army, even if they were still too far off to make out the emblem on the banners they were bearing.

"They're not supposed to be here this soon," he said.

"That's true," Amasia echoed. "It looks like Emild was prepared for this war. Explains why they were stupid enough to have Lady Sarah, Lana, and the others arrested. They've probably been planning this since before His Majesty sent them over there."

Gregor snorted. _And you've probably been planning that little analysis since before you called me to __come __see this._

He knew he shouldn't let Amasia's eagerness to prove herself a know-it-all irritate him too much, but the sight of that army marching towards them unnerved him right to the heart. He didn't want to have to deal with this. General Mayfair had promoted him to sergeant barely two weeks ago, and he hadn't even felt ready for the position itself then. He certainly wasn't ready to lead troops into a real war with only half a month's experience in that position.

_Who am I supposed to report this to, anyway? General Mayfair's gone... Randolf's still away..._

"Get Lieutenant Geoffery," he ordered Amasia. "Hurry."

* * *

Theo stretched his limbs with a muffled groan. His body was aching something fierce from days in the uncomfortable confines of their cell, but he was far more worried about how it had to be for Lady Sarah, Dawn, Grawler, and especially Lana. She always did her best not to gripe about it, but Lana always had the most difficulty of any of them in adjusting to the harshness of their conditions on this journey, and this was surely the harshest they'd yet faced. He didn't even want to think about how she felt about having to use a bucket to relieve herself.

She was leaning against the wall of the cell, her face wan, eyes drawn and hollow, expression suggesting that she could vomit at any second. Binuto was seated in the opposite corner, apparently dozing, so it seemed a good time to talk.

He leaned against the wall, facing her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Just need... a little rest. I'm getting used to this, I think..." She rubbed her arms. "I've figured out how to use my magic to take most of the soreness out of my joints, anyway."

He smiled. "Lucky you, to have something like that."

"Lucky _us_," she corrected. She nodded her head at the floor. "Sit down. Let me take the ache out of your bones."

Theo complied, though not without hesitation. Besides the fact that his hind end didn't feel in the mood to meet the rigid stone floor again, something about what Lana was suggesting felt distinctly... not right.

"Give me your leg," she said, and when he extended his left one, she squatted before him and began pushing the cuff of his pants up, working it over his knee. Despite the obviously practical nature of what she was doing, Theo found himself blushing.

While she began pressing her smooth, curved fingers into the little pits and corners of his knee, he tried adding some conversation. "So... you really think Varmo is betraying us to Akron?"

"What else _could_ he have been doing with him?"

"Maybe Akron was trying to get information out of him. Or maybe he was trying to turn him."

"And you really think Varmo would stay loyal if he did?"

"We haven't been executed yet, have we?"

"Of course not. We're prisoners of war. Akron just wants to be able to tell the other nations that he was right to arrest us."

He had to admit that she had a point there - though perhaps it was just the soothing feeling spreading through his knee making him feel more agreeable. The tension unlocking its grip made him feel swept by gratitude.

"Is it working?" Theo nodded. "Good. Ready for the other leg?"

He offered her his right leg and pulled down the pant leg on the other. As Lana got to work, he said, "I don't know... I just don't see Varmo as the type to betray Cypress. There's not a lot he wouldn't do to get power, but I think he wants power as a Cypressian. I don't think being chancellor of Emild would hit his fancy."

"...Maybe not." She gave a heavy sigh. "Maybe it doesn't matter. We're finished, aren't we?"

"Don't be silly," he smiled at her, though he wasn't completely untroubled about their situation himself. "General Mayfair will get us out of here."

"Oh, come on," she said, her voiced choked. "If the Cypress army reaches here, those Emild creeps will have us killed. They're crazy... If they lose the war, killing us is the only way to get their revenge. There's no way even Her Majesty can save us."

"Yes, there is," he insisted. "We all said it was impossible for General Mayfair to have survived that attack on Castle Cypress and led our missing troops into a successful invasion of Cypress, but she did. I'll bet we would have said it was impossible for her to have escaped Woldol when he was hunting her, too. She'll find a way to get us out of here."

Lana bit her lip. "I sure hope you're right." She pulled his pant leg back down. "Here, let me do your arms next."

Without waiting for Theo to give it an "okay", she moved forward to grasp his right forearm. Since she hadn't moved her feet from where she was crouching, to do so she had to practically crawl on top of him. The blood in his veins flooded to his face. If the intimacy of their position wasn't embarrassing enough, Lana's body was inescapably distracting at such close range, no matter how modest her clothing.

"Why don't you... go around..." he forced out, in barely more than a mumble.

"This is fine," she said, kneading her fingers into his wrist and elbow. That might not have made him so uncomfortable if he wasn't already questioning her motive for leaning in so close. "Seriously, being this close to you… actually... feels better." She blushed slightly. "This is all so terrible, having to live like this in this dank and awful place, and I'm so worried about what's going to happen to us, and... You just make me feel brave about it. I feel like if I just stay close to you like this, maybe I can even forget all this, and... just..."

She was looking into his eyes, and he felt himself frozen by her gaze. He read hesitation in her expression, and something else. He felt her closeness in his body and heart both.

Lana leaned forward to push her lips against his.

Caught by surprise, Theo tumbled backwards, limbs flying, his foot catching Lana on the side of her face with a harsh smack. Dismayed by the cry of pain she let out, Theo scrambled to his feet. "Lana! Are you -"

"It's fine, it's fine, I've got it..." she rattled off, touching her hands to her face to heal herself.

For a few moments they sat like that in silence, Lana's magic undoing what would have been a bruise.

After glancing at Binuto to make sure he hadn't been awoken by their mishap, Theo whispered loudly at her, "What were you doing, anyway?"

She flushed, mostly with embarrassment, but there was a definite hint of anger in her voice when she answered, "Do I really have to explain it to you?"

Another silence.

Theo fidgeted. "...Aren't you at all worried someone might pass by and see us? Or that one of the guys in the other cells will overhear? They're not that far away."

"Oh, come on!" she hissed. "You really care about that - what other people think? Damn it, Theo, I'm tired and I'm scared and I'm sick of being stuck in this little cell! Why do we have to keep being distant from each other? Why do we have to... have to keep our feelings all on the inside?"

He gave a deep sigh, and looked down at the floor. _I guess this is my fault, for letting things go this far... Sweet courage, I didn't want to have to say this. I don't want to hurt her. Guess it's too late for that._ "Look... I thought you knew about... me and Jane."

"Yeah. You've got a thing going on. Don't you think it's time you ended that, though? I know it's hard to break up with someone... And really, it's sweet that you're loyal to her, but..."

"I love her." _Wait, what?_

He hadn't realized, even a second before, that he was going to say it. Or even that it was true. He'd always said to himself that he liked Jane, that he was fond of Jane... never that he loved her. He was afraid to say that. Because she was so alluringly beautiful, and he didn't want to be just another of the dozens of creeps who only wanted her for her body.

_Stupid, stupid... I'd love her no matter what she looked like. I love her friendliness, her compassion, her honesty. I love that she lets it show when she's angry at me, instead of keeping it all bottled up inside. I love the way she understands people and notices things about them that I never notice. So what if, on top of all that, she's gorgeous?_

He rattled his head to bring himself back to the present; Lana was frowning at him. "I'm sorry if I've been leading you on, but I love her," he repeated. "You're a really nice girl, but I think we're just having these feelings because... Well, because we've been away from home for a long time, and all we've had is each other. You've been a good friend to me, and I hope I've been a good friend to you, but this isn't anything like what I feel for Jane." Lana was already crying, and it was a struggle for him to continue. "And I'm sure that... that someday... you'll find someone who... who will..."

She interrupted his stammering, "You idiot... Do you really think she'd wait for you the whole time you're gone on this mission, knowing she might be waiting just for someone to come and tell her you're dead?" She broke into a sob. "You just assume everyone is as loyal and true as you are, don't you? I promise you, if I know Jane at all, she's already moved on."

A grip like sharpened steel clutched Theo's heart. _Was that... that why __Jan__e acted so suspicious of me when I left? Because she was already planning to find someone new, someone better, as soon as I was gone? Because she wanted to make it seem like I __betrayed her__ first?_

He swallowed. "Maybe," he agreed. "She could do that. But if she wants to break my heart, that's her right. I don't think it would hurt any less if you and I were courting when I... when I see her with another guy. ...I think it might actually hurt _more_."

"But you'd be happier afterwards. I promise you would."

Lana still sounded so eager, as though sure that he would give in to her, that he was beginning to hate himself. "This isn't afterwards," he returned. "And I owe it to Jane to trust her."

"Oh, like she trusted you?"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is we said we'd stay true to each other, and Jane's never given me a reason to doubt her. I have to keep my word until she... well, until she says it doesn't matter to her anymore. And I have to trust her to keep _her_ word." He laid a hand on Lana's shoulder. "I... I really think you'll be happier in the end, too, if we don't... don't do what you were trying to do a minute ago."

She looked him in the eye. "You're sure you're not just worried that Dawn will hear us?"

He nodded. "Even if we somehow end up with a moment alone on this adventure... I don't want anything like that to happen to us. I just-"

Lana interrupted with a laugh. Not bitter, not hollow, but lively and amused.

While he stared at her in confusion, she pulled away from him, his hold on her shoulder falling away. "Okay, then," she laughed, pushing her hair back and wiping away the tears. "I sure didn't expect things to end up this way, but you win some, you lose some, I guess."

He didn't understand what her manner meant, but he was beginning to feel concerned. "Lana, if... if you're angry at me, you can say it."

She held up a hand that said "Stop right there", the look in her eyes now cynical instead of emotional. "Look, don't worry about it, okay? Ordinarily I'd want to get back at you for ruining things, but you did help me through a lot of rough stuff, so I'm still kind of thankful. So, no guilt trip, but you'll understand if I'm really not in the mood to talk to you right now. And even if you don't..." She shrugged and turned away, excusing herself to the opposite end of the cell. "...too bad. I'm not listening."

Theo stared at her a minute longer, the gears slowly turning in his head. When they finally turned into place, he fell back to sitting on the floor of the cell, silently laughing at himself.

_Jane guessed it; Lana was just playing me, right from the start. Maybe I should be angry, but really, I deserved it for being so conceited and stupid, thinking she might have fallen for me. Of course... I guess you__'__d say it's even more unbelievable that a beautiful girl like Jane would return my..._

_ ...oh no. Jane doesn't even really know. Gods, what did I say to her before I left? Did I tell her how much I'd miss her? Did I even tell her I care?_

He reached over to clench one of the bars of their cell. _Come on, General Mayfair... you've got to get us out of here..._

* * *

"Dammit, Varmo, what happened in there!?" Dawn exploded, stamping her hoof against the cell floor.

Varmo flinched in response, but said nothing, only scootching a bit more snugly against the wall of the cell, arms still wrapped around his folded legs. He didn't blame Dawn for being upset, but telling her what he and Akron had spoken about would only make things worse. At this point, she still essentially trusted him and approved of his actions. Even if she were to believe his story, she might well be very upset that he'd been offered the chance to have all of them released from these stinking cells and had declined it simply because he was afraid to do anything that might put him in opposition to Cypress. Certainly Jaha and the attendant who shared the cell with them would be upset.

The longer he sat there in that cold, increasingly stinking cell, the more incredible he found it that he was refusing Akron's offer. But everytime he thought of changing his mind, he could see General Mayfair's face staring at him. He just didn't have the guts to defy that face.

"Varmo, if you don't -"

"Hey hey, Dawn, enough already!" Jaha cut in. "Can't you see the poor guy's a nervous wreck? Whatever that guy Akron did to him, it wasn't pretty. He doesn't need you in his face on top of that!"

Varmo acted as if he hadn't heard, though in fact it was the most relieving thing he'd heard in days. He'd been hoping that eventually one of them would chalk his silence up as the result of trauma. Mainly because it would keep them from getting suspicious, but also because it gave him a good opening to say...

"You were right." Varmo kept his voice to a loud mumble. "Akron does serve Iom."

He couldn't remember ever seeing Dawn look so startled as she did at his speaking up. "How do you know?" she asked.

He just lowered his eyes to the floor again and said, "We need to get out of here. If we're even given a trial at all, King Ian can't afford the embarrassment of us being found innocent."

"Tell me something I don't know. The only person we've got on the outside is May; until and unless she finds a way to bust us out, what can we do?"

"Maybe, when the guards bring us our food..."

"If we try anything, they'll raise the alarm. None of us are sneaky enough to get the key from them without that happening."

"Hey, hey, guys..." Jaha cut in. "I don't know about either of you, but I'm starting to hear the sound of people fighting..." He paused. "Trying to kill each other, I mean. Not just arguing."

Perking his ears up for a moment, Varmo realized that there were indeed some rather harsh sounds coming from somewhere. Sounds that seemed to be getting closer.

* * *

Marlin couldn't sleep. Again Helen had seen them off to bed instead of Ian. He still remembered the way she had threatened him, and the passing of days made him feel more restless about it rather than less. It was an utterly crazy thought, he kept telling himself, but he kept wondering if she meant she would kill him if Ian got upset again. If she was nuts, what would stop her from killing the king's brother? He had thought of telling Kay or Emilia, but they'd probably think he was lying, and if they told Ian, he'd get in trouble.

So he just did as Helen said, and avoided doing anything to annoy Kay. Emilia he avoided entirely. No matter what he said or did to her, it was bound to get him in trouble.

Surrendering his attempts to get to sleep, Marlin pushed the covers back and sat up in bed. The truth was, while he was afraid of Helen, it wasn't that which was keeping him from sleep. It wasn't even the fact that they were now at war with Cypress.

It was boredom. He had never realized before how much time he spent planning ways to get back at Kay and coming up with pranks to play on Emilia. And with most everyone at the castle preparing for the war with Cypress, there wasn't much he could do to fill those free hours. That left him with plenty of time to think about father being dead.

He kicked his covers away from him and got out of bed. Thinking about things wasn't making him feel any better, or get to sleep any easier. He needed to do something.

Creeping up to Kay's bed, he licked the tip of his finger. A wet, icky wakeup for his big brother wasn't too naughty, and it would give him a much-needed laugh.

A soft rattling made Marlin nearly jump out of his skin. His eyes flashed to the door, the source of the noise. Someone was trying to get in! But with all the locks on the door, they couldn't possibly...

The soft brush of the latch as the door slowly swung inward cut off that thought.

"Kay! Kay!" Marlin screamed, his nerves so on edge from insomnia that he instantly panicked. His big brother bolted awake just as a trio of guards poured into the room, one bearing a lit candle.

"Settle down, Your Highnesses," the guard with the candle reassured them. "King Ian just wanted us to check on you."

"We can't be fooled twice, you blackguards!" Kay cried, snatching up the sword that he always kept at his bedside and brandishing it at the intruders. "If that's what it was, Ian would have come himself! Stay away from us or I swear I'll kill you!"

"Your brother's busy giving orders to the men now, Your Highness. Someone's spotted some intruders lurking about, and -"

Kay lunged at him with the sword, but the soldier retreated a step, and the blade only cut the cloth of his uniform. "Run for it, Marlin! I'll hold them off!"

Before the guards could react, Marlin made a break for it. To get by the last guard, he had to dive between his legs, but he'd had plenty of practice running around the castle halls, and immediately sprang back to his feet once he'd made it through. Kay plowed into the guards, cutting off any attempt to pursue Marlin.

Marlin raced into the hall. "I'll get Ian!" he called back to Kay.

"You idiot, Ian's probably the one who sent them!" Kay snapped. "It's just like what happened with father! Just run away!"

Marlin ran, not allowing himself to even glance back.

Heart pounding in his chest, he sprinted for Ian's room. _What Kay said can't be right. Not Ian, not... But he__'s b__een acting strangely, not like himself, just like father was... No! It's just because he's working so hard to take care of us! I can't doubt any of them. They're-_

He froze. _Emilia. Her room's much closer than Ian's... If someone doesn't warn her, Ian might not get there in time to save her!_

The pounding of his heart redoubled, his lungs sucking in air like an irresistible bellows as he ran faster than he ever thought his legs could carry him towards Emilia's room. He arrived there in a manner of seconds, and flung open her door so swiftly that it banged against the wall, not even pausing enough to realize that her door should have been locked.

His breath caught at the sight that greeted him. A pair of guards were in the room, one guiding Emilia out of bed as she yawned and stretched. Both of them stared at Marlin's sudden entrance. "Prince Marlin? What are you doing here? Never mind; we have orders to bring the two of you to His Majesty so he can make sure you're both safe."

_Too late. What now?_ Emilia was looking at him curiously. His mind raced. "I... have to get something from my room. It's really important."

"Alright. We can stop by there quick."

He hadn't expected them to offer to chaperone his little "side trip". Panicking, he pointed behind them and cried, "Look out!"

It was the oldest trick in the book, but it did tend to work a good percentage of the time. Both guards turned their heads, and Marlin bolted, turning the first corner he saw. He had no prayer of outrunning adults, but so long as he kept out of their sight they couldn't properly pursue him.

He headed towards Ian's room, lungs convulsing for air, tears streaming down his cheeks. _Oh gods, oh gods, Ian'll never get there in time to save Emilia! I... I just left her to die! And Kay... Kay must be already..._

He squeezed his eyes shut, running through the halls by memory. _This... this has got to be all a bad dream. I'll find Ian and he'll turn into a scary monster and I'll wake up. Please gods, I'll give an offering every day, just please let me wake up and have Kay yell at me and let me go down the hall and hug Emilia and I'll go see Ian and..._

_ Please, just wake up! Wake up wake up wake up_


	36. Chapter 36: Mayfair and Muriel

Chapter 36: Mayfair and Muriel -

Mayfair was beginning to feel more comfortable with Muriel. Their first meeting, at the wedding celebration, had been memorably awkward. The awful fact of her marriage to Nick had left Mayfair feeling lonely and thoroughly inadequate for her new role, and looking back, she realized that Muriel had seen her mood as a sign of weakness, and used the opportunity to intimidate her. She had since grown more confident in her ability to serve as queen, however, and apparently Muriel was responding to her new confidence by according her some respect, and relenting in her attempts to intimidate.

Needless to say, Mayfair found this behavior pattern - treating people with genuine friendliness only when they demonstrated the will to bite back - to be crude, even barbaric, and certainly unacceptable under the moral standards that she had ingrained into her young protegees at Castle Cypress. She did not allow it to blacken her impression of Muriel, however. The woman had more than her fair share of good points; the aid she had lent to Nick's forces in their struggles against Woldol may have been given with the hope that the favor would be repaid once he had taken the throne, but obviously her chief motive had been sympathy for the persecuted Cypressians. Besides, her aggressive diplomatic behavior was not so uncommon among royalty.

Thus, when Muriel asked her a rather personal question on the morning of her first day in Sharland, Mayfair saw no reason not to answer truthfully.

They were seated at a public table of an inn, sipping tea while the staff served them pastries and thick slices of bread glazed with spices(a traditional Sharland breakfast, she gathered). While taking a sip, Muriel studied her intently. She met her look silently, unblinking, enjoying the companionable moment even as she suspected that they were as much adversaries as friends.

Setting down her cup, Muriel said, "Excuse me for asking such a broad question, Your Majesty, but... What is it like, being married to King Nicholas?"

Mayfair sipped her tea a moment longer, to cover up her hesitation. Then, setting it down as Muriel had, she replied, "It is a great honor."

"An honor," Muriel echoed, her lips curled with disappointment. "Is everything in your relationship with him only that – an honor? I had truly thought you would be more affected by marriage to Nicholas the man than by marriage to Nicholas the king."

"But he is the greatest king in Cypress's history - perhaps in any nation's history," Mayfair said, surprised. "I have admired him with my whole being from the moment I first knew who he was."

"Love is stronger than cold reverence."

For a moment, Mayfair wasn't sure how to reply. "Why do you again speak of love?"

Muriel leaned forward, looking her earnestly in the eye. "Please tell me... honestly... do you love Nicholas at all?"

There it was. Yet Mayfair could sense no duplicity nor political motive behind Muriel's friendly manner. And she remembered the advice Nick had stressed to her: "Muriel is a romantic at heart. Love, heroism, and poetic justice interest her more than the good of her nation, though she nonetheless devotes more effort to the latter." (She remembered the fondness in his voice as he'd said it, and felt a sting of remorse that she had prevented his marrying her.) That meant she could divert Muriel's attention by speaking frankly of love.

She gave a heavy sigh. "I think every woman who knows him must love him, in one way or another. Don't you feel something for him yourself?"

Muriel smiled. "What do my feelings matter? I'm not the one fortunate enough to be married to him."

Taking a bite of bread, Mayfair felt a lump in her throat. "What good is it to be married to him," she let out with a breath of emotion. "...when it is nothing more than a marriage of duty?"

After weeping her last for her father, Mayfair almost never shed tears. Nick seemed to have a knack for forcing them from her, however. She was prepared to fight the urge to cry. It did not come. Her composure remained calm and dignified without any effort on her part.

Muriel watched her. "You mean that," she concluded. "You truly believe he is not in love with you."

"I _know_ it. And you know it, because he told you. We discussed this before."

She shook her head. "Nick is playing a double deception. As you said, it makes a good image for your people for the two of you to be in love, so he allows that to show in public. But then there's the rest of the world to think of. He doesn't want his political rivals to know he is vulnerable to love, and he's made you an unwitting part of that deception. I suppose he doesn't think he can rely on you to lie."

It was difficult to restrain her anger at Muriel's presumptuousness and readiness to believe she did not know her own husband's feelings. But she could hear her king urging her to deceive, and the opportunity in front of her clicked. Instead of refuting Muriel's assertion, she said, "How do you know?"

"Please don't take offense, but I don't see why he would have married you otherwise. There were better options for queen available."

She pretended to consider for a moment before replying, "I suppose that's so," though she had little doubt that it wasn't. Nick had judged her the best choice, and his judgment of Cypress's best interests was nearly (perhaps even completely) infallible.

They ate in silence for a few moments.

Muriel watched her, her eyes revealing deep thought. "You are not heartened to know that he does care for you?"

"What does it matter, if he never shows it?"

The princess nodded, then said softly, like a young girl conspiring with her best friend, "You can make him show it."

"...What do you mean?"

"Simply demonstrate to him that if he doesn't treat you as a man should treat his love, he'll lose you."

"Lose me?" The corner of her mouth twitched, unsure whether or not to show her amusement at Muriel's suggestion. "Your Highness, we're married. How can he possibly 'lose me'?"

"He can lose your affections. If he truly loves you, that would be worse for him than not being married to you at all." She cocked her head slightly - a movement not at all fitting her usual grace. "And please, call me Muriel."

"Well... Muriel... I'm afraid that wouldn't be any different. You see, I've never shown such affections towards Nicholas..." She took a nibble of bread. It occurred to her that, oddly enough, she hadn't told a single actual lie about her feelings for Nick yet. She had only said that she loved him "in one way or another", which was perfectly true.

Muriel blinked. "You're saying... he doesn't know about your feelings, either? That's... well... it's almost cliché." After a moment, her face became eager again. "But the solution is simple. You promised you would write to Nicholas, did you not?"

"Yes..."

"Well, there is your perfect opportunity. You should have no trouble telling him how you feel for him in a letter!" She leaned forward. "Tell him everything. Tell him that being apart from him like this has made it impossible for you to deny your feelings any longer, that now you must admit the truth. Tell him how much it hurts you that he doesn't love you back, even now that you're carrying his child."

Mayfair studied the princess. _She's probably sincere, but she may also be hoping that Nick will break my heart. She didn't give much reason for thinking he's in love with me; maybe she doesn't really believe that he is. And heartache could make me a weaker diplomatic opponent. Though it's far more likely that she means to ingratiate herself by bringing the two of us together, of course. Either way, I should refuse. Though he's never shown me true affection, as a whole Nick has been very considerate to me throughout our relationship. Repaying him with emotional blackmail at a time when he is already under such pressure from the situation with Emild would be cruel._

She gave a sigh. "Nicholas isn't the sort to bend to feelings. It wouldn't work."

"Don't give up so easily," Muriel said brightly, finishing off her breakfast. "We'll talk it over more at the palace. I'm sure if we put our heads together, we can find the right words to make your Nicholas come around."

* * *

"Enough delay," Jengh hissed at the manacled high priest. "Where is the key?"

Leifo shook his head nervously. "Trust me, you don't want to see what's behind that door. I assure you, neither Deanna nor Amelo is there."

"_Trust_ you? You _assure_ me?" Jengh laughed. "I take that as all the more reason to believe that they _are_ in there. We have orders from the capital to search this shrine, and if you impede that..."

"Alright... alright." Leifo took a heavy breath. "But you'll have to take me with you."

"That was part of the plan already, high priest."

* * *

Leifo opened the door, trembling. He told himself that this was not a betrayal of Iom. Jengh's men could well have found where he kept the key on their own. At least this way, there was a chance that he could fulfill Iom's plan without his associate's help. He stepped forward, a lizardman guard on each side and one behind him, with Jengh bringing up the rear.

"What is this strange chill?" Jengh asked as they proceeded.

"I honestly don't know," he replied. Jengh snorted.

After a few seconds, he could feel the chill deepen; they were close now. "There, see?" Leifo said nervously. "Neither Deanna nor Prince Amelo are here. Now can we -"

"Who is that back there," Jengh snarled. "...in the darkness?"

An icy sigh came from the place Jengh had indicated. "Ah... visitors. So you've managed to come this far. Most interesting. ...Who am I, did you ask? You may call me Charron." It didn't surprise Leifo to hear him use a false name.

"Leifo worked hard enough to keep us away from you." Jengh stepped forward. "I'll wager that means either you know something about where to find Deanna and Amelo, or you're proof that our high priest here has been up to no good."

"Is that so? Well, I refuse to speak on either matter. What shall you do?"

Leifo's guards continued to push him forward, making him tremble and sweat all over as they neared his associate. "Please! Lieutenant Jengh, we aren't supposed to get this close..." _By Iom, we're close enough to see him now!_

The sight of Charron was even more fearful that his chill aura and near emotionless voice. A fleshless body of chipped and hardened bones scraped its feet along the stones of the floor.

"What sort of creature are you?" Jengh snarled. "Some undead monstrosity?"

"Not precisely, my dear lieutenant. Iom maintains a semblance of my life in this form. Come closer, and I can demonstrate to you that this is our god's work, not high priest Leifo's."

Jengh reached for the creature's neck. "You'll demonssstrate to me where I can find Deanna and Prince Amelo! Or-"

Charron snatched his arm with a bony hand, and Jengh gasped, his whole body stiffening up. Leifo gasped as Jengh's men seized him more roughly, one of them holding a dagger to his neck.

The dead creature chuckled. "You lizardmen leaders are so predictable. In your arrogance, you approach yourself rather than let one of your men take the risk for you. I don't doubt that your kind's foolishness contributed to Iom's defeat by Cypress."

Jengh's teeth clenched, though Leifo couldn't tell if it was in pain or anger. "My men and I would rather die than have defended Warderer, fool!"

"Ah, so you're one of General Hindel's traitorous underlings, then? You know, it would be quite easy for me to suck up your life force, now that I have you in my hand. It would help feed my magical energies." He jerked his head at Jengh's men. "Or you could release our high priest."

"You let go of lieutenant Jengh firssst!" the lizardman holding Leifo hissed.

"While his men are in control of this shrine? Don't be absurd. You lose nothing by letting Leifo go."

With a sour look, the lizardman released him. He rubbed at his arms, which were beginning to fiercely ache.

"Very good," Charron said. "Now, let's see. I could turn Jengh into one of the undead with some altering of his life force, turning him into my slave... but I don't think such a deception would last for long. One of his men would notice the difference. Besides, if I simply tell you where to find Deanna and Amelo, you'll follow my orders of your own will, won't you, my dear lieutenant?"

Jengh cringed as the creature scraped a finger along his arm, tearing through scales until reptile blood dripped out, but he could not break free of its deathly grip. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"Only the security of this shrine, lieutenant. In a week or two, several prisoners will be delivered here to be sacrificed to Iom. Ensure that they are handed over to High Priest Leifo, and I will tell you where to find those you seek."

"We will not..." He struggled briefly against the tightness of Charron's grip. "...not deliver our allies to be sacrificed."

"Oh no, lieutenant, these prisoners are not Iomites. They are being brought from Cypress, Sharland, and Emild."

"Quite a collection. But we don't have time to wait for their arrival."

"Ah, of course. Well, then, I see no reason not to tell you where to find them right now. You are a loyal servant of Iom, are you not?"

_By Iom,_ Leifo realized. _He's really going to tell them._ "You... traitor! You would betray our rightful king just so you can complete this absurd ritual of yours!?"

"Leifo. Please. Aside from the fact that they have a reasonable chance of finding Amelo without our help, our god cares nothing for royal bloodlines. I would be a traitor to allow the great ritual to be prevented. And unless you intend to waste your trump card attacking me and some Iomite soldiers, you have no say in the matter. Lieutenant Jengh, you agree to my terms?"

The lizardman nodded, though not without a glint of revulsion for the dead creature who still held him. "Of course. I wish for the good of our god as well."

"Good." Charron released his grip, and Jengh stepped away from him. "You see, Leifo? Politics may divide us, but we are all united in our worship of Iom. Now, tell him where you had Amelo sent to."

Leifo heaved a heavy sigh. _Iom, have I failed you again? Is Amelo the only hope of... No; I can't think like that. If this were not Iom's will, he would have prevented my associate from doing it. And if this "ritual" my associate wishes to conduct is the best way to perform your will, Iom, then I will willingly aid it._

* * *

The welcoming party in Sharland's capital was quite impressive, by Mayfair's estimation. It made sense, when she thought about it; this would be the first time a member of the Cypress royal family had visited Sharland since the death of King Gadrios. Still, sensible or no, it was a bit embarrassing to be surrounded by reams of flower bearers and colorful ribbons falling from windows overhead.

She was careful not to let her discomfort show to Muriel. The woman did seem to be becoming sincerely friendly, but even if it wasn't an act, that did not rule out the danger of leaving the impression that she was weak. Nick would be very displeased if she allowed that to happen.

The carriage pulled up to the front gate of the castle and stopped, allowing Muriel, Mayfair, and Muriel's attendants to get off. Stepping up to the gate, they found Prince Saul and a woman of impressive beauty waiting for them.

Muriel allowed her guest to take the lead. When she stepped before Saul, he took Mayfair's hand, flashed her a friendly glance, gave an earnest bow of the head, and knelt briefly to kiss her hand. "Welcome to Sharland, Your Majesty," he said. "I do hope your trip was comfortable. Are you familiar with my wife, the Princess Caroline?"

Mayfair shook her head, nodding in greeting to the woman. "Actually, I have not had the pleasure. This is my first visit to Sharland, and unless I'm mistaken, Her Highness has never ventured outside Sharland."

"Indeed, you are not mistaken," Caroline answered, regarding Mayfair in the manner of one regarding a horse of less than satisfactory quality. The look angered Mayfair, not out of personal offense, but at the soulless elitism it suggested. "I've looked forward to having you with us."

Saul spoke up, "I'm sorry that my father couldn't be here to greet you; he's terribly busy at the moment. Nothing so important as showing proper hospitality to a guest of your stature, of course, but all of it rather urgent. Father has a tendency to procrastinate, I'm afraid." His mouth curled into an apologetic(and rather graceful, Mayfair couldn't help but note) smile.

"I'm quite satisfied to have you and Muriel as hosts, good sir. Your sister speaks very highly of you."

His smile evened out, and his jaw twitched with a faint but very good-humored chuckle. "Ah, but her judgment is not to be trusted; dear Muriel is very fond of her brothers, as I'm sure you've surmised. What does His Majesty King Nicholas the Second have to say about me? His is the word that you're trusting, I'm sure."

_"Saul, the eldest, is as intelligent as Muriel, and certainly the most cunning of the three," Nick had told her. "Most people, if you establish the right sort of familiarity with them, will willingly expose their chief motivations after but a handful of conversations. Even I am this way. Saul is different. He seems loyal to his country and loving towards his family - both the one he was born to and the one created by his marriage - but what it is that most drives him, I cannot determine. My father himself couldn't completely understand Saul. I don't look forward to the day when he inherits the throne of Sharland."_

Mayfair returned his smile. "He has a great deal of respect for you. The only major difference between his opinion of you and Muriel's is that he did not think that I would like you."

"Ah. Well, I shall do my best to prove him wrong." He bowed his head to her again. "Please come in, then, Your Majesty, and the servants will show you to your quarters."

As Mayfair stepped inside the castle, the servants he had referred to bowed to her and turned to lead her upstairs. Behind her, she heard Saul and his wife greet Muriel. It made her take note of how structured the formal protocol was in Sharland. As Nick had told her, high-ranking visitors were to be greeted one at a time, with guests taking priority, which was why Saul had had to wait until he could embrace or even acknowledge his sister. Guests were also to be immediately shown their quarters, regardless of time of day or any formalities yet undealt with.

It all struck her as a bit unnecessary, but that was not for her to judge. She followed the servants down the halls without a word.


	37. Chapter 37: Fight for Freedom

- Chapter 37: Fight for Freedom -

"The Emild forces are approaching, Your Majesty," Lieutenant Geoffery reported. "It seems to be only half of their full army, but it is a significant offensive at the least."

The king nodded in acknowledgment, unsurprised. His father had always told him that if something can go wrong, one should be prepared for it to do so. "Is there anything unusual in their manner of approach?"

"No, Your Majesty. At a guess, they probably intend to whittle down the men defending our walls until they're in good position to batter through the gates."

"Inform me if that changes. Until then, the maneuvers Queen Mayfair trained the men in should be enough to repel the attack."

"Yes, Your Majesty," he said, giving the appropriate salute to Cypress's defender.

"Lieutenant." King Nicholas left a pause to create an impression of significance. "Do your best, lieutenant. For Cypress."

* * *

Their trail wound through a thick forest and over a well-worn path, apparently so as not to leave a trail. Deanna's chest and limbs ached with bruises and cuts from the senseless torture Wallor had inflicted on him, and the forced marching made it worse.

However, the droop of his head, the slump in his posture, and his lack of anything to say were all feigned. His body was weary and aching, but his spirit was a long way from beaten. So he kept his eyes and ears at watch for any useful information that might come from his captors, for any weakness in their plans. That was how he spotted Wallor scowling out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't like this, sergeant. When I agreed to turn Deanna over to you people, there was nothing about transporting him anywhere else."

"And exactly what problem do you have with that, Wallor?"

Wallor gave an anxious glance at Deanna. "There's a decent chance of his escaping or being rescued so long as he's not locked up. He has that sort of fiendish luck. If there's a threat of his allies invading the shrine -and you tell me there is- we should have simply had him killed."

The sergeant shrugged. "Orders were to keep him alive for now. I don't give the orders."

_They want me alive... to use as a hostage against Natasha and Edwin. That's the only use they could have for me. ...No, wait... Maybe the head supporter of Warderer's line just wants to avenge Warderer's death by making me suffer more. Or they could want to make my death public, together with Amelo's coronation. That would make their triumph complete in the eyes of Iom's citizens._

_ ...Funny. I think I've actually begun to understand politics. I wonder if Hindel would be proud. Probably not unless I can get myself out of this mess._

He tested the ropes that bound his hands behind his back. They didn't seem too well-knotted, but they were strong, and he had no idea how to slip ropes. His only hope was to cut them.

"I'll be paid for my trouble, at least?" Wallor prodded.

"You've already been paid, Wallor. And no one asked you to come with us. If you want to see the man die badly enough to make this trip, then that's your choice. If not, no one's dragging you along."

They were fully engaged in their conversation with each other, which was exactly what Deanna had been waiting for. He had already mapped out the opposition: nine guards, plus Wallor, but most were either farther up or down the forest trail, some watching Yurligi and Amelo. His only immediate concerns were the sergeant on his left, Wallor on his right, and the guard prodding him along from behind.

Faking a stumble, he abruptly swung his head to the right, slamming the side of his head against Wallor. In the same motion, he stretched out his left leg to trip the sergeant. His head screamed in protest at the first blow, and his limbs groaned at his sudden exertion, but he still felt a surge of exultation as both of his targets hit the ground. One step closer to getting safely back to Natasha and Carla.

The guard behind him seized him by the collar. Even over the pain roaring through his head, Deanna heard the sound he wanted to hear: his captor drawing his sword. Gritting his teeth, he threw himself backward against the guard. They fell to the earth, Deanna landing hard enough on his opponent to knock the wind out of him. He could feel the sharp steel of the sword cutting into his arm. Fighting the instinct to avoid being hurt, he shifted his arms until the sword's edge had found and cut through the rope binding him.

From his faked stumble to severing the ropes had taken only a handful of seconds, but it was enough for the other guards to reach him and for Wallor and the sergeant to scramble to their feet. He had no time to take the sword from the guard beneath him. Instead, he leapt to his feet, eluded the weapons of his attackers, and lunged forward to grab Wallor. Wrenching the staff out of his grip, he held the healer in front of him, one arm around his neck, the other restraining his wrists. The soldiers hesitated, waiting for Deanna to make the next move. Looking them over, his gaze fell upon Yurligi. Her eyes were looking for an opportunity - perhaps to snatch a guard's weapon and throw it to him.

"Don't do it," he said to her, his voice coming out as a loud, painful croak. His captors had allowed him precious little water over the past days, and it felt strange to speak again after such a long silence. But he knew his eyes could speak to Yurligi more effectively; after all she had gone through to find her son, he did not want her to get herself killed just helping him escape.

"Don't be even more of a fool than you usually are, Deanna," Wallor gasped against his tight grip. "I don't know what they want you alive for, but my gut says they'll settle for killing you rather than risk your escaping. You're unarmed, outnumbered, and in the middle of nowhere. Even if you could get away from them, a weakling like you will die of dehydration before you reach a town."

"Don't think about me, Wallor," he said, his voice tense with anger. "Think about Lym. A woman who served her commander and her nation loyally. Who was willing to fight and die for what she saw was right. And you... killed her."

"I didn't... You saw it; it was the others who..."

"_You_ killed her," Deanna repeated, louder this time. "The men who cut her down were just fighting for what they thought was right. I killed some of them, but I did it to defend Yurligi and Lym. You... you betrayed your commander, betrayed Lym, just to satisfy your personal hatred for me. She died because of you. That's why I promised I would kill you, Wallor. I... I failed to protect Lym..."

"No," Wallor pleaded. "You need me alive, you -"

"...but at least I can give her justice." With an involuntary sob of remorse for Lym, he gave a sharp twist of Wallor's head, snapping his neck.

The guards rushed for him, and he turned and ran, crashing into the thick of the woods. Despite his wounds, despite his long enforced march, Deanna's limbs felt near to bursting with energy. As soon as Wallor's Dispel magic wore off, he would be able to use his Spark spells to discourage continued pursuit, and the thought of how unhappy Natasha and Carla would be if he died was more than enough motivation to keep him running for that long. His chance of recovering Amelo was lost, but at least he was free.

* * *

"Excuse me," Dawn called to the mage guard as he passed down the cells, readministering Dispell. "What are those noises we're hearing? It sounds like we're under attack."

"I don't know," the elven mage shook his head. He looked nervous; though the flickering light of the lamp he held wasn't enough to clear night's obscuring touch from his facial expression, Dawn noticed that for the first time she had seen, he was holding his staff with both hands. This was especially awkward with the lamp also in one hand.

"The Cypress army couldn't have arrived yet," she went on. "Is there any possibility of a revolt within Emild?"

"It's possible," he admitted, giving a quick glance about him. "The people like King Ian well enough, from what I hear, but some of the nobles might not like his starting a war with Cypress. They might feel it's their duty to get rid of His Majesty in order to save Emild from a Cypress invasion."

"'Get rid of...' You mean, assassinate King Ian?" The mage let silence be his answer. "Please, let us out of here. Your king may have allowed us to be imprisoned, but it is Akron who is the real problem. We don't want your nation thrown into chaos by regicide. If you let us out, we can protect King Ian and prove we are friends of Emild!"

"I believe you're friends of Emild. But I can't trust you." He looked away from her, towards Varmo. The kyantol had allowed her to do the talking, as the four cellmates had agreed(though she had suggested the rest of them keep quiet primarily with Jaha in mind). "You could be lying about wanting to help His Majesty. You could just want your freedom. If that's it, my duty is to keep you from -"

He was cut off by the sudden appearance of another guard. He came in running, gasping, "It's... an attack... couldn't stop..."

A third guard, the last of the group assigned to watch the prisoners, strode forward. "Who? The Cypress army?"

Dawn couldn't hold in a leap of hope that they were being rescued, even as she told herself that the attackers were probably as much their enemy as Emild's. But before the new arrival could answer the question on all their minds, a spear pierced his back, coming out through his chest. As he fell dead, a familiar russet-coated centaur stepped over him, removing the spear from his back with a grim expression on his face.

"Not the most honorable way to kill a man... but, it's war." He looked up at the two remaining guards, his expression brightening. "Okay, then. I'm Lieutenant Apis, here to declare that the Guardiana army is liberating the inmates of this prison. So, we have to fight you guys to do that, I take it?"

Two dwarves and an elf bearing a mage's staff came to stand at Apis's side.

The Emild guards took several steps back. The mage cried out, "Wait, wait... We surrender, we surrender! Right?" The other guard hastily nodded agreement.

Apis lifted his eyebrows. "Woah. That's refreshing. Alright, so one of you gentlemen has the keys, I assume?"

The human guard tossed him a big ring of keys.

"Thanks. Okay, gang, let's get these two tied up. ...Oh, and you sir, would you mind giving that lamp you've got to Dyne? Wendy here can light our way when we need it, but I'd prefer to conserve her magical energies. Yes, thank you, sir."

While the elf and two dwarves tended to the Emild guards, Apis approached the cell. Dawn's heart pounded with relief and excitement; she hadn't realized just how much she hated being trapped in that awful cell until that moment.

Apis gave a sigh like a man just finishing a long day in the fields while he sifted through the keys on the ring. "Sergeant Dawn, I take it?"

"Yes, sir. I know you don't remember me, but I had the honor of checking your invitations to King Nicholas's coronation, and fighting beside you during his trials. I don't know how you knew to come to our aid, but we are most grateful that you did."

"Darn straight!" Jaha piped up.

Apis worked the key into the lock. "No problem; we're allies. I'm just sorry Ruce couldn't be here. He sends his regards, but he had other responsibilities. Here you g-"

As soon as he opened the cell door, Varmo zoomed out, nearly knocking Jaha over, and threw his arms around Apis, sobbing. Dawn stared in astonishment.

"Um..." Apis shuffled his hooves. "You're, um, very welcome, sir."

"Hey, Varmo, bud," Jaha said. "We're all happy to get out of there, but take it easy, okay?"

Jolted by Jaha's words, Varmo pushed himself away from Apis and wiped away his tears. "Yes, yes... I apologize. I just let the moment get ahold of me... that's all." He straightened himself up.

"Okay..." Apis said uncertainly. "How about we let your comrades out?"

They went to Theo, Lana, and Binuto's cell first. The three humans were already lined up at the bars of the cell.

Varmo cleared his throat. "Um... Might I suggest that we leave that one in his cell?" he said, pointing to Binuto.

Dawn grimaced. "I'm afraid I have to second that proposal, lieutenant Apis. He's already attacked another member of our group."

"Don't you think that's a bit petty, sergeant?" Binuto said. "We have a war on our hands. If you leave me here, that's one less soldier on your side."

"Our goal isn't killing Emild troops, Binuto. It's getting Lady Sarah back to Castle Cypress. Even if she decides we need to take care of Akron first, I doubt she'll think it wise to bring you along."

Apis shrugged as he opened the cell door. "You heard the lady. Stay right where you're standing, sir."

"Thank you so much," Theo said with a level of gratitude higher than any Dawn had shown in her life. "I -"

"That's enough," Apis interrupted, though with a friendly smile. "I think I've had my fill of that sort of thing for today, thanks."

"Well, we're the ones who owe you the most thanks," Lana remarked. "You just liberated the two of us from the Awkward Cell."

Jaha smirked. "Yeah, lots of fun with killer there, huh?"

"Well, yes. Plus Theo dumped me a while ago."

Dawn gawked at her, taking only a moment to glance at Theo and see him blushing bright red.

"Ah HA!" Jaha exclaimed. "I knew there was something going on with you two!"

"Please," Lana said with a toss of her head. "You didn't know anything. You just happened to guess partly right." She smirked up at Dawn. "Guess I'll have to find another boyfriend now, huh? Somehow, I don't think that'll be hard."

Dawn stared at her a moment, then said, "I don't believe you," and turned to follow Apis to Lady Sarah's cell.

"What do you mean, you don't believe me?"

"I don't believe Theo was ever really your boyfriend."

She watched Apis unlock the door to Lady Sarah's cell. Grawler smiled at her. "Good to see you again, fair lady." She forced herself to politely return the smile.

"My most sincere thanks, Sir Apis," Lady Sarah said as he let them out.

"It's Lieutenant Apis now, my lady."

"Lieutenant Apis," she nodded. "And if I am not mistaken, I see you have the valiant Wendy with you as well."

"Lady Sarah, you know these people?" Lana broke in.

After a brief glare at the interruption, she answered, "These are two of the brave Guardianans who helped King Nicholas liberate Cypress from Woldol."

"And who King Nicholas helped in rescuing Queen Anri from Woldol's grip," Apis added. "It would have been pretty ungrateful for us to not help him out in this fix."

"Ha!" Wendy laughed, striking a heroic pose. "Speak for yourself. I'm just in it for the adventure!"

Apis chuckled. "Actually, Wendy came along mainly because she thought she might get a chance to give King Nicholas a nice, solid kick in the crotch."

Wendy blushed. "That's not it! Besides, he deserves one."

Lady Sarah said, "Regardless of your reasons, we are most grateful for the rescue. May I ask what your orders are concerning your invasion of Emild?"

"We break in, we get you out," Apis answered. "That's it."

"That's it?" Varmo spoke up. "What about Akron? He's likely the main cause of all this trouble. Shouldn't we try to take care of him while we're already past the defenses of this castle?"

"Who's Akron?" Varmo opened his mouth to explain, but Apis retracted, "Never mind; we don't have time. As soon as I get Chester out of his cell, just show me where this Akron is, and we'll improvise from there."

Chester beamed at the sight of them approaching. "Dawn! Jaha! Lady Sarah! I thought I heard your voices, but I couldn't figure who you were talking to. The gods are still with me, I guess... For a while, I didn't think I'd be around to see Cypress rescue Emild from this mess."

Dawn was considerably less overjoyed at the sight of Chester than he was at the sight of her. "By the gods, Chester," she gasped. "What did they do to you?"

The elf's normally bright face was darkened by a number of hideous gashes, sores, and burns. He looked confused by the shock on her face at first, then smiled weakly in comprehension. "Oh, they've been interrogating me pretty thoroughly for the past few days. I'm surprised they hadn't started on you guys yet. Maybe they figured King Nicholas wouldn't have sent anyone who really knew anything, but they should have at least tried to get you to confess to whatever it was they put you in prison for."

"Actually, they did start interrogating some of us," Dawn said, glancing at Varmo. "Obviously they went much farther with you."

Chester shrugged, extending a smile of thanks to Apis as he opened the cell door. "Well, I _am_ a traitor. I don't suppose you guys could heal me up?"

The mage guarding the cells had already cast a fresh Dispell on Sarah, so Lana stepped forward to oblige Chester, wincing as she laid hands on his harsh wounds. Apis cleared his throat. "Make that quick. We've already hung out here too long, ladies and gentlemen."

"Wait a second," Halron said. "Where's Binuto?"

Dawn grimaced. "In his cell, where animals like him belong."

"But... If the Emild guards find him there, they may kill him."

"It's likely. What do you care?"

"It's a fitting enough punishment for his crimes," Varmo put in, giving Halron a "quiet you fool" look. "And it certainly makes more sense than leaving him at liberty, where he could take the opportunity to help Akron's men."

Halron stared fixedly at Apis. "Set Binuto free. Or I'm staying here."

The whole of Lady Sarah's escort exploded with cries of varying mixtures of vehement opposition and disbelief. Only Theo remained silent.

"If he was willing to betray this whole expedition, he wouldn't have saved us when we were captured by the raiders," Halron said over the small din. "I'm the only one here who's threatened by him, and... He wouldn't have fought me if I hadn't stalked him over unfounded suspicions. I don't think I could live with myself if he dies because of that."

"Sounds fine with me," Apis shrugged, and made his way back to Binuto's cell.

Dawn cantered after, reaching her ill-behaved fellow soldier first. Looking him in the eye, she said, "Listen to me, Binuto. I don't care if you see Halron attack one of us right before your eyes; you are not to go near him. You are not to attack him, touch him, or even say a word to him. Promise that, for what your word is worth. Or I swear, I'll see to it that you stay right there."

Binuto contemplated for a moment, then gave a shrug. "Alright. I promise. Even with that restriction, you're still better off with me beside you."

"Let's get moving," Apis said, pulling the cell door open. "I don't know why the castle guards haven't discovered us yet. Shoddy defenses, if you ask me."

"Emild is presumably at war with Cypress; they may be shorthanded," Dawn pointed out.

Apis just nodded in acknowledgment, and turned to lead the party out. "Alright then... Someone give me the story on this Akron."

* * *

Helen exhaled a deep yawn. "Forgive my rudeness, Your Majesty... but is there a reason you summoned me this late?"

He gave her one of those focused, interested looks that so disturbed her. It took him a moment to manage, "I haven't slept well lately. This is the third night in a row that I've woken up in the middle of. To tell the truth... I'm very worried about this war." He drew in a sigh. "I've anticipated this war would happen for months, and was always sure that Emild would triumph. I suppose I thought... that in the end, good has to win, somehow. My father is dead, and nothing can bring him back, but surely the gods would not allow his killers to have the last laugh. To have Cypress overrun our nation and take my siblings, after all the injustices they've committed... it would be too cruel. That's what I had always thought. But now that the moment of truth is at hand, I have doubts." He clenched his fists, trembling. "I'm afraid we're not going to win."

"Your Majesty, don't worry yourself so. Things are not so bleak. Perhaps I should have told you earlier, but I've taken measures so that the Emild army will have the element of surprise."

"What do you mean?"

She fixed him with an apologetic look as she answered. "Anticipating that the Blue Dragons might fail in obtaining their bounty, I forged orders from Your Majesty for a significant portion of the Emild army to muster at the Cypress border. They should have marched on Castle Cypress as soon as news of the Lady Sarah's treachery went out." Helen bowed her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I fully understand and accept that my life is forfeit for my actions."

There was a terrible silence. She had seen no choice but to do what she had done, for the sake of Emild. But that did not mean she looked forward to being executed for disobeying her king - especially knowing that she was in fact guilty of just that.

Then Helen felt the gentle touch of fingers on her chin, raising her head. Ian's warm eyes met hers. "Helen," he said. "How could you ever think that I would willingly lose you? Besides, only a prideful man would desire your death for what you did. You judged right, anticipated that it would come to war with Cypress, and because of that, we have a good chance. For that, I thank you. You compensated for your king's incompetence."

"You are too hard on yourself," she returned. "You are facing unusually adverse circumstances; the fact that you haven't dealt with them in... the ideal manner hardly makes you incompetent. You have not had time to learn your duties yet. Despite that, you have managed our domestic affairs admirably well." It was all true, if rather exaggerated. Ian was not yet as unstable as his father, and for all his flaws, he at least tried his best. Though he had succumbed to weariness, he had not yet yielded to complete despair.

Ian stared back at her. "Helen." She didn't know what to do; he was still holding her chin.

Then his mouth came to hers, lips embracing. Helen froze. The kiss was immediately recognizable as not the sort one gives to his old nursemaid. Before she could begin to make sense of what was happening, he brought a hand to the back of her head and deepened the kiss.

She clenched his arm tightly, stifling her desire to pull away. Her eyes squeezed shut, trying to force the present experience from her mind.

Ian released her before too long, and she fell back a step in response, just catching herself from retreating further. Her heart pounded, fearing what would happen if he caught on how much his show of passion repulsed her. She could still feel... sweet gods, she could still feel that rough, thick, human tongue inside her mouth! It made her tremble, and she felt an almost irresistible urge to vomit.

"Helen, I love you," Ian said. "I... I've never been very eloquent with voicing my feelings, but these past months, I've found that my adoration of you as a child has grown into something more. I've tried reasoning with myself that I'm just confused, that it's not truly love, but I simply can't make myself believe it. If it were permitted, I'd marry you in an instant." He paused for breath, the words coming out so forcefully that his chest was heaving. Helen fought to keep the alarm from her face. "Being king has been hard on me, Helen, and I don't think I could have handled it without you keeping an eye on things for me, advising me, investigating... but so much of that keeps your company away from me. I can't help but wish for you to be with me longer. And so, I... I'm asking if you would be willing to be my concubine. It's a position unworthy of you, but it's the only way I know to hold you closer to me."

He fell silent after that. Helen hesitated a moment, then said, "That's a very flattering offer, Your Majesty, but not a very appropriate one."

"I know, I should have a wife first. I'll find one, but when I do, will you...?"

"The suggestion is entirely inappropriate, Your Majesty," Helen said, folding her arms. "Because of our relationship. I was your nursemaid, if you remember."

"Yes, but... Couldn't we stretch things, and..."

Helen shook her head. She actually began to feel a faint touch of pity for the mad king, even over her horror at what he was suggesting. His desire for her was thoroughly perverse, but obviously heartfelt nonetheless, and she knew it must hurt for her to reject him.

But her disgust at his weakness, his perverseness, his disregard for his duty to be a respectable king, easily surpassed what little pity she felt.

The door to the bedroom suddenly burst open, making her instinctively jump into a defensive stance, and little prince Marlin came running in, gasping for breath.

"Ian! You've gotta help... Emilia... and Kay..."

Ian held out a hand before him as though to ward his brother off, face contorting with a mixture of anger and pain. "Stop it, Marlin, just stop it! I've had more than enough of your feuding and -"

Ian's interruption gave Marlin a moment to catch his breath. "But they're going to kill them!" he almost screamed. Startled out of her defensive posture, Helen realized for the first time that the boy's face was covered with tears. "Some bad men came and tried to take us. They said you sent them, but you didn't, did you Ian? And I got away but they took Kay and Emilia! We've got to rescue them!"

After standing there a moment with a stupefied look on his face, Ian dropped his head into his hands and stammered, "I... how can... where..."

Helen sighed and said gently, "Your Majesty, Marlin was probably just having a nightmare." She looked to the young prince. "I'll take you back to bed, okay? Do you need me to read you a story?"

Marlin stared up at her, his brow slowly furrowing. "Hey... You did it, didn't you!"

Apparently summoning some presence of mind, Ian took hold of Marlin's arm and demanded, "What are you talking about, Marlin?"

"Helen threatened me!" he said, stabbing his finger at her. "She said she'd get me if I did anything else to get you upset! She must have decided to get rid of the three of us before we did anything else!"

Helen felt her face burning with silent fury. _The little brat._

"Marlin, calm down. Helen is practically a member of the family. You don't really think -"

"Please!" He gripped his brother's shoulder. "I swear I'll be good, I won't ask anything from you again, I'll just sit in my room and be quiet, just please, help them!"

"It's too late," a new voice interrupted. Akron entered the room, looking almost as winded as Marlin. "I'm so sorry, Your Majesty. The guards raised the alarm about some intruders, and we came as fast as we could... but they're gone. Kay and Emilia are both gone."

* * *

Though the lamp that one of the Guardiana soldiers was carrying still lit their way in a general sense, the darkness that enclosed the castle prevented Jaha from seeing much of what lay in front of him. He felt the long, furry legs knocking him square in the face before he saw them. The dwarf swore as he tumbled onto his back, hands flailing about for the axe he had been carrying on his back.

"Oh! Jaha! Oh, I'm sorry!"

The Guardiana soldier held the lamp up to the owner of the offending pair of legs. "May?" Jaha exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Without a lamp?" Dawn added.

May smiled. "My eyes are better in the night than yours. As for what I'm doing... Well, Akron sent for me."

The fur on Varmo's forehead scrunched up as he looked at May. "I thought you realized that Akron is manipulating your king for his own ends. If he's summoning you in the middle of the night, he probably intends to set you up to look like a traitor, or just plain have you killed."

"Probably," she agreed, looking a bit sheepish. "But I've had enough of sitting and doing nothing while everyone else is killed or locked away. I thought this might be my one chance to expose what Akron is up to. But now that you've all been liberated, it's a bit superfluous, isn't it?" Her face fell as her eyes reached Chester. "Chester... I'm so sorry it took me so long to do this..."

"I didn't want you to do it all," he returned sharply. "May, what good is it to me or Emild if you die with the brand of a traitor?"

"We don't have time for arguments about things that don't matter anymore," Apis cut in. "Lady May, I assume you're coming with us?"

"I don't know whether this is an escape or a mission to liberate Emild from Akron," she said. "But I'm emphatically in favor of either. You all have weapons?"

"Not their own weapons, I'm afraid, but we raided the armory here before making the prison break, so they all have something, at the least."

"Hey," Jaha said, briefly stretching up on his toes to make himself noted. "Knock off the gloomy faces, will ya? Dawn, May, Lady Sarah, Chester... Think of it, the five of us are all together again! It's almost 'like old times', isn't it?"

To his surprise, Dawn actually cracked a smile. "Yes, Jaha. It is, a little."

"We need to hurry," Lady Sarah said. "We must quickly reach King Ian and rouse him in order to finish this."

"King Ian?" May repeated. "Why?"

"We need to have him as a witness for when Akron attempts to set you up or kill you. It's the cleanest way to put an end to Akron's schemes, win King Ian's trust, and put an end to this foolish war. I assume that you know where the king's bedroom is, May?"

"Right this way."

Following along, Jaha scratched the back of his head. It occurred to him that Lady Sarah must have come up with that plan right off the top of her head, since it all relied on May, and none of them had known that they'd bump into her. _Smart lady. Glad she's on our side._

He liked the atmosphere, too. Their whole merry band creeping through a castle in the middle of the night, only a single flickering lantern to guide their way through the shadows... It sent a pleasant tingle down his spine like nothing he'd felt on any of his previous adventures. Dawn had told him about the darkness of the labyrinthine corridors of Algam Fort, but he'd missed out on that, of course. It honestly sounded like Natasha and Dawn's group had gotten all the fun adventures after that runaway ship split them up.

He hobbled over to the Guardiana elf, Wendy. "Hey," he said. "Were you really one of the group that fought to free Cypress from Woldol?"

"Yes," she said, with a terseness that obviously wasn't normal for her. "And if you're going to ask what Nicholas is really like, I'll -"

"Huh? No, I was going to ask about General Mayfair."

"_General_ Mayfair?"

"Fine, fine, 'Queen Mayfair'. What was it like when she was blind? Did she keep bumping into things?"

Wendy frowned at him. "Mayfair is one of the kindest, cleverest, strongest women I've ever met. She never once backed down from -"

"Yeah, yeah, I already guessed all that," Jaha said impatiently. "I went into battle with her myself, ya know. I just wanna know what it was like when she was blind."

"She got along just fine," she answered. After a moment's pause, she giggled and added, "Except for the time -"

"Halt!" a voice bellowed, making Jaha look up. They were in a vast hall, probably the last step on the way to the king's bedroom. On the other side stood a thick-limbed human in red and silver armor, bearing a sword in one hand and a lantern in the other. The light from the lantern illuminated at least 20 Emild soldiers, by Jaha's estimate.

_Not as tight odds as some I've seen, but... not bad._

"I don't where you invaders came from, but by the command of Captain Arlese, you will lay down your weapons and surrender."

May stepped forward. "They aren't invaders, Arlese. We are on our way to see Akron; he can explain things to you."

Arlese snorted. "Ah, May. You certainly chose an inopportune time to turn traitor. If these people are not invaders, as you say, then where is the harm in them throwing down their weapons?"

She had no answer. Apis nudged Dawn, "We'll take them out in two teams, alright? I'll lead the Guardianans, you lead the rest."

Dawn's mouth popped open. "Me? But... you have more experience than I do."

"And you know these people I lot better than I do. That's more valuable than what little extra experience I've got, sergeant."

"Yeah, Dawn, get yer butt in gear," Jaha threw in.

She nodded. "...Alright. Everyone, follow my lead! Chester, you stay in the rear. Theo, Halron, make sure May and Lana are safe. Grawler -"

_She sure has a lot of confidence when she needs it._ Jaha hefted his axe as the Emild troops advanced towards them.


	38. Chapter 38: One Evening in Sharland

- Chapter 38: One Evening in Sharland -

Dinner with the Sharland royal family was pleasant enough. Princess Caroline did excuse herself quite early - rather a rude gesture towards a guest - but given the princess's elitist attitude, Mayfair was satisfied to chalk her departure up as good riddance. And the rest of them were quite friendly, if rather on the formal side. Alain, at the least, was refreshingly human, freely joining in conversations without offering preambles and speaking in an open, casual tone.

More importantly, she found that she was not intimidated, not even by the king's sharp intellect or Caroline's acid remarks. Perhaps it was the memory of Nick's confidence in her that gave her courage, or the simple thought of the strength of Cypress and her people, but whatever it was, she never wavered in her answers.

Towards the end of the main course, the king came to his feet and said, "I hope you will forgive my seeming imitation of my daughter-in-law's rudeness, Queen Mayfair, but as I still have numerous affairs demanding my attention, and my appetite being quite sated, I must excuse myself. I trust that my company shall not be missed, at any rate; while you plainly possess a conversational grace and wisdom far beyond your years, I am sure you would prefer to converse with those closer to your age. You and Muriel are already friends, I understand... and I am a rather dull conversationalist."

Mayfair shook her head. "Not at all, Your Majesty. I treasure your company, but if you must go..."

"Well then, I'll be sure to speak with you at further length some point during your visit. I am... most impressed that King Nicholas managed to find a queen worthy of him so quickly." Mayfair restrained a blush. "One other than my daughter, that is."

That caught her aback. "Your Majesty, I assure you, under any normal circumstances Nicholas would never have proposed to anyone other than Muriel."

The king held up a hand and a gentle smile. "Forgive me; I only added that remark so as to not slight my daughter. I perfectly understand the reasons for His Majesty's choice."

"That is good to hear." For all his impressive talk over dinner, he seemed genuinely unassuming now. Perhaps that was the balance he struck in maintaining good relations.

After she had formally excused the king, Mayfair once more seated herself.

Muriel studied her for a minute. "Am I correct in surmising that you like our father?"

"I am _coming_ to like him," she answered. "I don't know him yet."

"Very precise," Saul chuckled. "Are you _coming_ to like my wife?"

"Don't be childish," Muriel scolded him, though Mayfair only smiled in response to his remark. She knew that taking Saul's ribbing too seriously would be one of the worst things she could do for their esteem for her - and by extension, for Cypress. Muriel turned to her. "You've avoided talking of your husband thus far, Your Majesty. I realize that might be embarrassing in front of my father... but my brothers will be quite respectful, I assure you. Saul _has_ to be, seeing as he's married himself."

Mayfair brought a hand up to her mouth. _I had thought she would keep my feelings towards Nick as a confidence between the two of us. What should I... Wait. Don't assume. _"Well... What exactly did you want me to discuss about him?"

Muriel interwove the fingers of her hands and rested her chin upon them, smiling in a relaxed, friendly manner. It was a pose that looked good on her. "What about the first time the two of you met? I've heard it was during the war..."

"Yes." She reached over to her glass and took a sip of water, buying her a few moments. "I was in charge of a group of resistance fighters on Asreet Island. Woldol's men had found us and were intending to wipe us out, but Nicholas and his force arrived right... I know how contrived this must sound, but truly, they arrived right in the nick of time. An hour later and I would most likely have been killed."

"That _is_ a rather gracious stroke of luck," Alain remarked.

"Actually, knowing Nicholas as I do now, I think it was only by a very ill stroke of luck that I came so close to death at all. I've never seen him have to get by on luck." She took another sip of water, and smiled. "It was startling to learn that I had been rescued by none other than my rightful king. Until that day, I wasn't even sure I believed the rumors that King Gadrios's son was fighting to reclaim Cypress. Even more shocking was that he was doing so with such a small fighting force. His courage impressed me, to say the least."

"Ah," Muriel said. "And you must have impressed him."

Mayfair shook her head. "I couldn't have. My efforts at fighting Woldol had done a lot of good, but all Nicholas could know was that, ultimately, I needed him to rescue us."

"Still, he must at least have had some attraction towards you at that point."

"I proved my value to him in battling against Woldol's forces, and later, in advising him in domestic affairs and training the youths of Cypress into a powerful army. That is the only interest he has ever had in me."

"But you unfairly deprecate yourself, and His Majesty, with such remarks," Alain protested, making both the women start; his voice was significantly louder than it had been for the length of the evening. "King Nicholas has a strong and warm heart. If he married you, he must love you."

She gave Alain a look of sympathy, moved by his foolish idealism. "He has his duty, and love must come second to that."

He shook his head. "One with a heart that strong cannot betray love, not for any reason."

Muriel gave a nod at her brother and a smile at Mayfair. "You see? Alain agrees with me."

"That's... reassuring." She took a moment to consider, then decided it wouldn't hurt to let her discomfort show, and might even help mislead Muriel. Standing up, she said, "I pray that you will all excuse me for the evening. I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit weary from my journey yet."

"You haven't eaten much," Saul observed.

"I rarely do." She had practiced moderation in her meals since she was ten. Every mouthful she took in was one less that her father could give to the needy. She gave a polite nod of her head(it had taken Nick weeks to train her to do that instead of a bow). "I did enjoy the meal, however. I look forward to seeing you all again tomorrow."

* * *

Shortly after Mayfair left came the time for dessert, but with a, "I think I need some time with myself," Alain excused himself, leaving the servants only two to serve upon.

Saul twiddled with his near empty glass. "Perhaps my sister would like a dish of something... I find myself more inclined towards a fresh bottle of wine." Muriel gave her assent, and in short order Saul was left with a glass of wine and she with a glass of custard.

This evening Saul's habit of taking in wine at unusual times fell on the side of amusing Muriel. The sight of him sipping his glass made her smile. She really did adore her older brother, albeit not nearly as much as she did Alain. It was unfair, she supposed, since Saul was obviously fondest of her, while Alain, in turn, was more attached to his big brother. But something about Alain's emotional frailty aroused her maternal instincts. And Saul's shortage of principles and compassion often unsettled her.

"So, dear sister," Saul broke in on the quiet. "Now that the others are gone, perhaps you could explain to me what you're up to."

It took her a moment to register what her brother was talking about, but then she replied, "She is in love with Nicholas. She admitted it to me."

"As a deception, perhaps?"

"No." She dug into her custard and enjoyed a good bite. "I've gotten to know her well enough by now, Saul. She's a stronger woman than I first gave her credit for, but if there's one thing she's not, it's a good liar. She was raised by an archbishop; she probably grew up thinking of honesty as an inviolable virtue, and couldn't break the habit after becoming general. Whatever the reason, she's too simple and honest to tell a lie that isn't recognizable from a mile away."

"Ah. So let me see if I have this straight." He turned towards her and sat forward. "They're married. They love each other. But she has no clue about any of his feelings." He gave her a teasing smile. She found herself laughing in response.

"I suppose it is a bit absurd," she admitted. "But when you consider everything, it does make sense. King Nicholas knows that choosing a queen based on love makes him look weak before other nations, and moreover, it means that he _is_ weak, because he has allowed his personal feelings to interfere with the good of his people. So he hides his love not only from her, but from himself. Mayfair, in turn, loves her king too much to distract him with a confession of love from a woman he does not love in turn. They're both doing their duty to their nation by ignoring their duty to each other."

Saul looked at her for a few moments, then shrugged and took a swallow of wine. "I suppose I can't actually refute that theory. However, you leave me more puzzled than ever. If what you say is true, you seem to be working towards the two of them opening up to each other, and thus attaining romantic marital bliss. How does that work to Sharland's advantage?"

"The timing of it does. Nicholas is embroiled in an unpleasant war, on top of a number of other diplomatic affairs. I plan to have Mayfair send him a letter confessing her feelings and saying how much it hurts her that he doesn't return them within the week."

Studying her face, Saul concluded, "Ingenious. Nicholas won't take well to that emotional blackmail, especially if he's repressed his feelings well enough. He'll reprimand her for pressuring him right when he's struggling to deal with Emild, and her ire will be stoked by his cold response. They'll both end up hurt and angry, yet Mayfair will feel indebted to you for helping her release her buried emotions. The sympathy you offer her for her unfortunate enamorment will make her a closer friend to you than to her husband." He leaned back and sipped his wine again. "Ingenious... and more than a bit cruel."

"You don't approve?" she asked, surprised.

"I approve of the plan. I'm not sure what I think of you having devised it."

She looked away. "If he suffers from this, Nicholas has no one to blame but himself. His foolish actions made it all possible. Sending a diplomatic mission to a man as paranoid as King Ian, hiding his affections from the woman he loves..."

"...marrying a dreary, self-righteous priestess instead of you?" Saul finished for her. His tone was completely blank, neither teasing nor accusing.

Muriel clenched her glass. "And now marrying King Ian is no longer an option. My selection of potential husbands is swiftly dwindling."

"It's just as well. To be frank, I never thought King Ian to be even remotely worthy of you."

"I don't disagree." She smiled faintly. "In truth, I'm glad he's out of the running. Now that there's no longer an obvious first choice for father to have me married off to, I can have my pick from a half dozen or so gentlemen."

"None of them worthy of you, if you want my opinion. But then, what man is?"

"...The one I can't have," she mumbled.

"What was that?"

Muriel did not answer. Though she still did not look at him, she could sense her brother watching, hear him sipping wine, pausing a few moments to refill his glass from the bottle the servants had left. It made her feel oddly nervous at his scrutiny yet warmed by his company.

"I can't see how you can possibly think that the man who would settle for a woman like Mayfair when he had a perfectly good shot at a woman like you is worthy of you," he said at last, having apparently guessed what she had said.

"He made the right choice," she said. "He married the woman he loves. After all, what does it matter that I... that I did so much to help him, and..." She could hear her voice becoming more and more strained as she went on, and stopped herself.

A warm hand clasped her shoulder. "Muriel," her brother whispered.

She had told herself not to lose control, but that simple gesture from Saul told her that he could already see her weakness. Abandoning pretense, she pressed her face into the front of his shirt and released a sob. Saul's hand wove through her hair to tenderly hold the back of her head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." She sniffed back her tears. "Why did he do this? I was always sure I would marry him, and then... Gods, did he marry that girl just to spite me? What did I do to deserve this?"

"Nothing," he assured her. "Marrying King Nicholas meant that much to you?"

"You wouldn't understand," she said, pulling away from him. He silently handed her a handkerchief, which she accepted. "You inherit the throne of Sharland. You have a wife, and a son. I have nothing."

"Nothing save the wealth of the royal family of Sharland. And, may I add, two brothers who love you dearly."

"Two brothers who I'll rarely see again once I'm married off," she retorted. "And wealth is cold and hollow. Mock me if you will, but I envy those peasants who have no money but at least have someone to love."

"Ah, yes," he sighed. "Your incurable romanticism is both your charm and your heartache. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have belittled your pain." He pushed her unfinished dessert towards her. "Listen. Once I am king, I can arrange for you and your family to take up permanent residence in the palace. That way, at least I can be there for you whenever you need someone to talk to."

"No, Saul." She ignored her dessert. "Once you are king, the people of Sharland will need you. I won't have you neglect them for my sake."

"I'd rather watch every last one of them drown than see you like this. You've always been strong, idealistic, always sure that every couple you see is enjoying true love, that good will triumph over evil in every fight. You-"

"Saul..." She stood up. "The only way you could make me happy now is to make Queen Mayfair magically disappear and convince King Nicholas to marry me. You've already shown that you can't even accomplish the latter. Thank you for giving me a shoulder to cry on, but as for the rest... Don't bother yourself. All I ask is your help in convincing Queen Mayfair that her husband does in fact love her. I don't think you have any reason to object to that. So, I bid you good night."

Saul looked at her a moment, then raised his glass to his lips. "Good night, then."

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Natasha pushed open the door. "Um. You wanted to see me, Sir Edwin?"

She felt incredibly foolish. She had no idea what Edwin could want with her. Though she always listened to everything Deanna had to say about Iom's situation, and more or less understood it all, she was still new to the nation and didn't feel qualified to discuss its politics. And politics was the only subject Edwin could possibly want to talk to her about.

_Unless something's happened to Deanna._ Try as she did, she couldn't suffocate that thought. It was all she could do to keep from trembling with anxiety in front of Edwin.

"Yes, I did," Edwin said, getting up from the table he was seated at. He extended a hand towards the spot opposite him. "This gentleman just arrived from Cypress. Apparently, there's a matter between our nations which urgently needs resolving... and to be honest, I'm not sure how I should resolve it."

Natasha had to look down to see who he was talking about; the ambassador was a dwarf. "Hello," she said. "It's good to see another person from Cypress again. You look... familiar."

The dwarf nodded and held out his hand for her to shake. "It wouldn't surprise me if you'd seen me around Castle Cypress at some point. I'm Richard, Cypress's minister of foreign affairs." He glanced at the table. "Shall we sit down?"

She took a chair facing perpendicular to the two of them, holding a steadying hand over her baby as she sat down. There was a brief silence. "What is this all about?"

Folding his hands in front of him, Richard gave a sigh. "Well, this is rather unusual, lady Natasha. You see, a peace treaty between Cypress and Iom hasn't been signed since hostilities opened between our two nations. Technically, we're still at war."

She blinked at him. "I... You can't be serious. It was Warderer who started that war, and he's dead now. Prince Nick wouldn't attack innocent people just for conquest!"

"Of course not. But an official agreement of peace still has to be made. Cypress has refrained from pursuing the matter these past eight months - keeping our troops within our original borders, allowing you and your husband to attend His Majesty's coronation - because there was no leadership in Iom that we could deal with, and as you pointed out, the immediate problem between our nations had already been resolved. Now, however, there is at least some leadership in Iom to deal with, and King Nicholas feels that the matter cannot be delayed any longer."

Richard leaned forward and pushed at a piece of paper that lay in front of Edwin. Natasha immediately understood. "What are you waiting for?" she asked Edwin. "Sign it."

Edwin looked at her. "There are terms."

"Terms?"

"First, the current ruler of Iom is to swear not to instigate or participate in further abductions of royal personages, whether of Cypress or any other nation, and to ensure that the next king of Iom takes the same oath before being crowned. Second, as a gesture of goodwill, Iom is to entertain the royal family of Cypress, as well as whatever nobles and ministers of Cypress should choose to attend, at the royal palace in a celebration of the new peace. Third, Cypress claims the lands extending from -" Edwin stopped, and began digging through a stack of papers that he had set to the side. "It'll be easier for you to understand if I just show you where they are on a map..."

It took her a few moments to interpret his legalist wording. When she did, she didn't like what the translation said. "Are you saying that Cypress is asking us to give some of Iom's lands to them?"

"Exactly, yes. It's a very straightforward annexation."

She turned on Richard. "Why is Cypress asking for something like that, if they're so eager for us to sign a peace treaty?" she demanded.

Richard smiled at her as though she were a slow-witted pupil. "Lady Natasha, many Cypress soldiers died in the war against Iom, and our kindhearted, noble king suffered unspeakable humiliations while he was held captive. Is it fair to ask that Cypress endure these wrongs without the least bit of compensation? That the deaths of those soldiers - at that time, your comrades - be allowed to be for nothing?"

Her cheeks colored slightly. "I... hadn't thought of things that way. I just want... I just want Cypress and Iom to be friends. Deanna is from Iom, I'm from Cypress, but we love each other. Isn't that a sign that it's wrong for our two nations to be making demands of each other?"

"It's not much of a demand, if that means anything," Edwin said, spreading a map of Iom on the table in front of her. He ran his finger over a section. "This is the area in question. Scarcely a tenth of Iom's total land area."

"Land area? You're concerned about land area?" A spark of outrage snapped inside her. "What about the people there? What about whether or not the crops there are needed for people in other parts of Iom?"

Edwin retreated into his chair. "To be honest... I don't know about any of that. I've told you that I took on the leadership of Iom only reluctantly; I never learned all there is to know about this nation. And these are remote lands we're talking about. Judging by that, I would assume that they're not well-populated, or there would be a large city in the area. Beyond that, I can't say."

She thought for a moment. "I don't think this is our decision to make, Edwin. Deanna should be back before too long with the heir to the throne. We should wait for the king to decide this."

"Lady Natasha..." Richard intervened. "You're asking me to wait for an indeterminate period of time while Sir Deanna locates your monarch and prepares him for his coronation."

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but..."

"You don't understand. The longer Cypress waits, the more time Iom has to rally its forces and resume the war. King Nicholas has already been more than patient; if he allows this matter to be postponed any further, he endangers the people he is sworn to protect. And so, he has given me strict orders to not allow you to delay more than three days, and that only so the assorted ministers of Iom can discuss the matter. If you have not signed the peace treaty within three days, the Cypress army must once more march to defend itself against Iom."

"You can't be serious," Natasha said again. "We both agreed just a minute ago that Pri- that King Nicholas wouldn't attack innocent people just for conquest."

"This isn't about conquest. This is about Iom's hostility towards Cypress. If Iom refuses to accept even these simple demands, he must assume that Iom is still hostile towards us. He cannot wait for them to make the first strike." He looked her in the eye. "King Nicholas doesn't want this to come to bloodshed, Lady Natasha. But as you know, he will take that road if he must do so to defend his people. Will you force him to do so?"

She was struck silent for a moment. _What do I do? I don't want to betray Prince Nick, and I definitely don't want Iom and Cypress to go to war. But I don't want Edwin and me to make a decision that really isn't ours to make... Especially me. I'm not even really an Iomite._

She asked, "Edwin, what's your opinion on this?"

"I don't know," he answered. "That's why I'm asking for your advice."

"But you're an experienced political leader, and Iom is your home. You must have _some_ thoughts on if we should sign this or not."

Edwin cast his eyes at Richard. "May the two of us discuss this in private for a minute or two?"

"Of course." Richard got up and left the room.

Edwin turned back to her and gave a feeble shrug of his shoulders. "To be honest, I think the terms are exceptionally lenient. I suspect Cypress realizes that with the change in leadership in Iom, they have a solid chance at actually establishing friendly relations with Iom, and have decided to trade seizing immediate benefits for gaining our good will. The losing nation of a war in which it was the agressor can hardly hope for better terms than this. Accepting them seems like a good choice.

"On the other side, refusing the terms seems like a very bad choice. I'm not prepared to conduct a war against Cypress, and I'm certain that our new king won't be, either. Our troop numbers are already weakened from Cypress's invasion, and smaller feuds over the rulership of Iom have made things worse. Most importantly, soldier morale is sure to be extremely low if they are asked to fight Cypress again."

He folded his hands. "Despite all that, two things make me hesitate to sign the treaty. One, Cypress may be bluffing. They've recently endured a civil war of their own - a far longer and bloodier one than we went through, from what I understand. It's likely that they don't have the military strength to afford an invasion of Iom. We may be able to negotiate for better terms. Which brings me to point two: It doesn't feel right for me to agree to something so major as surrendering a significant chunk of Iom to a foreign nation so long as we have any other option."

"I understand," she nodded. "But they won't let us wait for Deanna and our new king to return, so..."

"Which makes your knowledge all the more useful."

"My... knowledge? I'm not even a native to Iom..."

"Exactly. You were a soldier of Cypress. And you had the opportunity to see Castle Cypress again, when you attended King Nicholas's coronation. So you can answer my first reason for hesitating: Does Cypress have the manpower to reasonably launch a renewed invasion of Iom? Or are they bluffing?"

She stared at him. "You're asking me to give you military intelligence on Cypress? That's... treason. I may technically be an Iomite now, but..."

Edwin sighed. "You were just a minute ago complaining about Cypress coercing us to give over these lands. Now you're refusing to give me information that will allow us to negotiate around that. You can't have it both ways; either you help me make the best decision for Iom, or you abandon Iom to a decision based in ignorance."

She fidgeted with the sleeve of her robes. _Gods. They're asking me to choose between Cypress and Iom. The land I was born in and the land I've made my home._

_ But... what can it hurt? Edwin sounds like he wants to sign the treaty anyway. ...Unless he's deceiving me, to get me to talk about Cypress's army._

She shook her head, belatedly realizing that it didn't matter, since what she knew of Cypress's military strength suggested that they were not bluffing. She'd been focused for so long on Deanna and the baby, her mind was responding sluggishly to questions of war, she realized.

Aloud she said, "When I was serving at Castle Cypress, all we had was the men who went with Prince Nick to Iom, and the youth squads."

"Many of whom perished in the ambush at Algam fields," Edwin filled in.

"But not most. I saw most of them return to Castle Cypress. Prince Nick must have ordered a retreat when he realized they'd been trapped." She paused. "And when I visited Castle Cypress for the coronation... there were many new recruits. It's still nowhere near the size of the mighty Cypress army I heard about when I was a little girl, and it's not big enough that they could be sure of defeating Iom again. But it's big enough that they could at least give it a very good try."

"I see." Edwin rubbed a hand across his brow. "Of course, no matter how powerful the Cypress army, King Nicholas still _could_ be bluffing."

"You want to play a game of dare with him?"

"I just want to do what's right for Iom," he sighed again, resting his face in a hand. "I never wanted this position, but I have it, and... By Iom, I'm griping about my own problems. Listen, just tell me... should I sign it?"

She hesitated a moment, then said, "We can trust King Nicholas. He wouldn't have offered these terms if they were hurtful to the people of Iom."

Edwin nodded, and got up to summon Richard back to the room.

Once Richard had been called back, Edwin sighed the treaty in the presence of him, Natasha, and Richard's bodyguard. Richard smiled as he accepted the signed treaty. "Thank you, Sir Edwin. You've done a great thing for both our nations. I'm sure this will lead to a new era of friendship between Cypress and Iom."

"I certainly hope so," Edwin said, standing up to shake his hand. "Unfortunately, I won't be the one to decide whether Iom is a friend of Cypress, or not. That is up to our rightful monarch."

"I look forward to meeting him as well. But you have set the right course, and for that, you have the sincere gratitude of King Nicholas and Queen Mayfair."

As he turned to go, Natasha frowned and said, "You mean, _General_ Mayfair."

"That's right."

"You... you said 'Queen Mayfair'," she said, smiling awkwardly with the embarrassment of pointing out his mistake.

"Right again. She was General Mayfair, and now she's Queen Mayfair. Were you not informed?" He looked genuinely puzzled.

Natasha could feel a lump forming in the pit of her stomach. "I think you've made a mistake."

Richard smiled. "I'm fairly certain that I know who my queen is, lady Natasha. Farewell for now; I must return to Castle Cypress as soon as possible, to tell King Nicholas that the ultimatum I mentioned has been met." He bowed and left.

She stared after him. Edwin's hand fell lightly on her shoulder. "Are you all right, lady Natasha?"

All she could think of to say was, "Is there a way to become queen without marrying a king?"

"Of course. One can inherit the position by blood, as I believe Guardiana's ruler did. Or if one can convince enough people that she is the rightful ruler, a rebellion like Warderer's could work. Why? Does Queen Mayfair being married have some important implication for Iom?"

She looked down at her belly, where she could feel Carla beginning to stir. "No, nothing important. I just... He must have been mistaken."

* * *

Mayfair stirred from her sleep. She'd been having a pleasant dream; she was walking through a field with her father, watching strange and beautiful horses gallop past them. There was no sensible reason for the dream to have ended itself at that point, which most likely meant she'd heard something. Her hearing was still sharp from the time she had been blind; that experience had taught her how to truly listen, and she hadn't forgotten the lesson.

She sat up, looking about the darkness of the room, ears perked for further noise.

A hand closed over her mouth, cutting off her attempt to cry out. She struggled, trying with all her might to get leverage over the grip her assailant had on her. Something sliced into the skin below her ear, and her mind almost immediately felt duller, fuzzier.

She fought for consciousness, raced through her memory as fast as she could to think of the spell most likely to counteract whatever had just been done to her. Instead, the strain of her thoughts made the fuzzy dizziness in her head spread more quickly, enveloping her into a dark unconsciousness.


	39. Chapter 39: The Things We Do For Love

- Chapter 39: The Things We Do For Love -

Muriel was very eager to help Mayfair write her letter to Nicholas. Not only for practical reasons, though of course the letter would be most damaging to their relationship if he received it before the war with Emild was finished, and it surely wouldn't be long before that deadline passed. She was eager as she was always eager to see the writing of a love note, which was certainly not something she saw every day. And she had to admit, she was also eager to make Nicholas suffer for his foolishness.

Thus, she was out of bed early and rapping on the door to Mayfair's bedroom. (If she was still asleep, Muriel reasoned, her impertinence in waking her would be forgiven with the excuse of her enthusiasm for love letters.) When no answer came, and Mayfair could not be found at the breakfast table, concern struck. Muriel sent servants to search the palace.

Returning to the breakfast table, she found Saul dining by himself. He looked up. "Are you well, dear sister? You seem a trifle agitated."

"Where is Mayfair, Saul?" she burst out.

He smiled fondly at her. "Gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes." He winked. "You might say she _magically disappeared_."

That left Muriel at a loss for words for a good long moment. _Those were the words I used last night, when... _"Saul, what are you saying?"

She couldn't remember ever before seeing her older brother looking so pleased with himself. "As you asked, lovely Muriel, I have accomplished. Your concerns have been taken care of, your wish as good as come true."

"For the love of the gods, Saul, _what have you done!?_"

He put a finger to his lips. "Peace. I've simply availed myself of the services of one of my debtors. A year or so ago, I uncovered a worshiper of Iom in our court. I decided to retain him, so that I can use his connections to Iom without our diplomatic adversaries being aware of it. Since I've taken measures to ensure that he cannot betray Sharland without being exposed, he makes a good hidden ally. And since he was interested in obtaining Queen Mayfair as a sacrifice to his god anyway, having him take care of her benefits us both. This way, there is no chance of Mayfair's death ever being traced back to me."

She gaped at him, scarcely able to believe what he was saying was real and not some cruel joke. "You had Queen Mayfair murdered?"

He nodded with a smile. "And you said I couldn't grant your wishes." Leaning back in his chair, he went on, "I must say, it was very difficult to keep an impassive face when we talked last night. As soon as you told me what you wanted, I could see exactly how to pull it off. You wanted Mayfair gone, and now she's gone. You wanted King Nicholas the Second to marry you, and now he will. Even if he suspects our culpability, His Majesty is a reasonable man. He won't walk away from his duty to Cypress just for petty vengeance, and with Mayfair dead, you are by far his best option for Queen of Cypress. His reasoning for marrying one of his own people not longer applies, since..."

Saul kept on talking, but Muriel no longer listened. _"You wanted Mayfair gone..." You wanted Mayfair gone..._

She felt sick. The strength to stand seeming to desert her, she supported herself against the table with both hands. Saul rose from his seat and reached for her. "Are you all ri-"

"Don't touch me!" she cried, recoiling from him. "You filthy... villain! How could you do this!?"

He stared at her. "Muriel, haven't you been listening? You can marry King Nicholas now!"

"At what cost?"

"Even if Sharland's relations with Cypress suffer from this, that's solely my concern. Once you and Nicholas are wed, you will live in Cypress."

"What about the innocent woman you've... you've murdered?" she demanded. "For the love of the gods, Saul, did you truly think I wanted this?"

"Of course. You've been berating me for not securing you a marriage to King Nicholas."

"You fool, I was griping! You honestly thought I expected you to go this far?"

For the first time, doubt showed on her brother's face. "I... no, I suppose not. But I had to go this far. You hide your suffering well, Muriel, but the mere fact that you would devise this scheme of Queen Mayfair writing an emotionally volatile letter to her husband, a scheme to tear apart two people in love, shows how affected you are by his proposal passing you by. I doubt there exists a man who could stand to see you suffer so when he holds the power to give you lasting happiness. If there is, I most certainly am not he."

Her eyes burned as she looked at Saul, as though they could burn away his loathsomeness. She squeezed them shut, and the tears ran out over her lids. "Give me lasting happiness? You don't even understand me. You're my own brother, and you don't even know who I am!"

Saul reached out towards her, his mouth just faintly opening, seeming to want something comforting to say to her but finding nothing.

"Stay away from me," she snapped, her voice coming out hoarse. The flow of her tears rapidly increased. "If you love me at all, you'll tell me who this agent of Iom is so that we can deliver him to Cypress."

"That won't help you. They took Mayfair from here early last night, and I doubt my Iom worshiper knows exactly which route her abductors took."

It took her a moment to realize the implication of what Saul had just said. "Queen Mayfair... is still alive?"

He nodded. "They want to have her sacrificed at the main shrine in Iom, though I'm honestly not sure why. These religious fanatics can be so particular."

Muriel breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time, her heart seemed to pound faster than before. "Then there's still a chance to fix this horrible mess. If I leave for Cypress immediately and tell Nicholas what's happened, he may be able to save her."

"Calm down, Muriel," Saul said, in a voice of distant resignation. "He can't save her. Even if he manages to reach Iom before they do, he has no chance of finding them before it's too late."

"I have to try!" She turned and stormed away from the table. "I'm leaving now, Saul. Give my apologies to Alain and father. I don't want you to speak to me ever again."

She walked on towards the servant's quarters, hoping that they would be able to have her on her way within the hour, and ignoring Saul's continued exhortations. But as the tears continued to run down her cheeks, she realized that she was only fooling herself in blaming Saul.

_He only did it for me. Because I told him it's what I wanted. It's my fault... gods help me, it's my fault._

* * *

_A month,_ Natasha realized as she felt Carla kicking again. _It's been a month now that Deanna's been away. It was supposed to be only a couple weeks._

She tried to stop worrying, but whenever she managed to do that, she began thinking of all the time with him that she was missing. She thought now of all the times he had missed the opportunity to feel his daughter kicking. She thought, too, of how she wished he was around to help her; though she knew it was just her pregnancy talking, she couldn't help but feel that he ought to be fetching her food and drink when she was hungry or thirsty, putting a reassuring arm around her shoulders when she felt sick, keeping her company.

Carla gave a particularly strong kick, making Natasha start. _Damn it... calm down, Natasha. He's fine. He told you in that letter, he's helping that woman find Warderer's son._

She sat down at her desk and pulled out one of her magic books. Taking a breath to steady herself and Carla, she resumed her studies. _And Jengh is off to help __him. He's fine. He'll be back soon. He -_

There was a knock at the door.

_Oh gods he's dead he's dead they killed him and now that's Jengh or Edwin come to tell me he's..._

"Lady Natasha?"

"What is it?" She was amazed at how calm she made her voice sound.

"Someone to see you, milady." And Natasha heard the door open. Feeling a heavy lump in her heart still, she turned.

It was... "Deanna," she gasped.

He didn't hesitate in coming to her, and her open arms awaited him. She pulled him tightly against her, resting her chin on his shoulder, and he returned the embrace. It gave her a soft beat of gratification and contentment when one of his hands quickly came to rest on her belly, a loving greeting to their daughter. He held her gently(no doubt for fear of hurting the baby) but very lovingly, and she wept with joy at the feeling of his warmth, the sound of him breathing her name.

When she managed to loosen her grip on him a little, she pulled her head back and their faces met in a kiss, so eager that bonked foreheads on the first attempt. She giggled helplessly for a brief moment before his mouth covered hers and she was swept away by his passion and her own emotional response, which came too fast for thought. Deanna was with her again, and for the moment she had no desire other than to kiss him.

She took a break for air, and realized that Deanna had carried her to the bed and laid her upon it. Tears were running from his eyes as well, and beneath the tears was a familiar look. "Natasha, I... I want..." he stammered.

She blushed, recognizing the desire in his eyes. "...me too," she admitted. "But I haven't got much energy right now. Carla keeps getting bigger, and... carrying her around all the time is starting to take a lot out of me."

"Oh." The disappointment on his face flattered her. "If... If it'll make you feel better, I could... rub your back, or..."

"Deanna!" she exclaimed, noticing for the first time the shallow cuts, bruises, and other marks that showed through the rips in his clothing. "You're hurt!"

"Huh? Oh, um, yes..." He averted his eyes, looking more than a bit awkward. "Now that you mention it, I think Frecor and some other people were telling me to go see a healer, but... I just had to see you."

"Gods, Deanna, you should have listened! You need to take care of yourself!"

"I had to," he repeated. "The thought of seeing you and Carla again was the only thing that kept me going, brought me back here..."

"What are you talking about?" she said, puzzled. "What happened?"

"We were betrayed... Lym, Yurligi, and me. Wallor betrayed us to the Warderer loyalists. They were bringing us, and Amelo, to his coronation... I escaped, but I had no idea where I was. It was the middle of nowhere. I had to just keep walking in one direction until I found other people... It took so long, and I didn't have any water with me..."

"Oh..." Deanna's tone was hardly self-pitying, but the simple recounting of his trial was enough for Natasha to feel as though she'd suffered it herself. She sat up and hugged him. "You poor lad..." She stopped, and laughed slightly. "I sound so stupid, saying that to my husband. Are you alright?"

"You don't sound stupid," Deanna reassured her. "I... like hearing you say things like that. Not for me, I mean... it just reminds me what a... sympathetic person you are. And I'm fine now."

"But... you said they're going to crown Amelo?" She pulled away slightly. "We're got to tell Frecor where they are so that we can stop them."

He shook his head. "I... I don't know where they are. I can't remember how long I was walking after I escaped from them, or in what direction. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she sighed. "Jengh should be able to catch them. Now go. Have a healer take care of those nasty cuts you've got."

"I'll give you a quick back rub first."

"Get out of here, you ninny!" She shoved him off the bed with a laugh. "If you bleed to death in front of me, I'll never forgive you," she added, though his wounds had mostly scabbed over.

Deanna nodded mutely and walked off, leaving Natasha feeling sorry that she had poked fun. Mostly, though, she was just glad to see him again.

* * *

"I'm just getting in everyone's way here, Gregor!" Jane shouted over the din of battle as she halfheartedly drew another bow from her quiver. "I couldn't hit an enemy soldier if he was five feet away!"

"Keep at it!" Gregor called back. "You're a better shot than you think; you'll hit one sooner or later!"

The truth was, he had scarcely more confidence in Jane's marksmanship than she did herself. He only wanted her to keep it up to discourage the Emild troops from trying to scale the wall. Though not a born archer, by now Jane had practiced enough that her shots would at least come dangerously close a good percentage of the time.

"C'mon, Gregor," Alex said, lugging up another load of hard objects for the rest of them to throw at the enemy. "You know I can nail more Emild troops with one spell than Jane can firing those arrows all day. Let me clear away some of the horde!"

"You've got to save up your magical energies, Alex," he returned. "Right now there aren't many of the enemy in range. Not a good use of your spells."

Alex gave him a black look and moved on. Gregor wondered if he should have let Alex do what he wanted just for the sake of staying on his good side. Before General Mayfair had decided that he had potential as a leader, Alex had been the one in charge of their squad. The general had made sure to tell them all that the change of leaders had nothing to do with Alex's performance, but it was obvious that Alex took it personally.

Donlie picked up a few of the objects Alex had brought. "Why are we trading fire with them, anyway? Why not just hunker down? If they climb the walls, or anything, we can handle it. Pretty much all of us can fight and push away ladders... Jane's the only one of us who can shoot."

"This is the basic procedure General Mayfair gave us," he answered. "It looks like we can just shove them off the ramparts if they climb up - I know. But if we let them climb up, there's a good chance they'll swarm over us and we won't be able to push them back. We have to slow them to the point where we can handle -"

He was cut off by a loud shriek. He spun to see that Amasia had caught an arrow in her right shoulder. She was panicking.

_Dammit!_ He ran to get a hold of Amasia and try to pull the arrow from her. _Lana went with that diplomatic mission; we've got no healer. This is a nightmare..._

* * *

"That's wonderful," Natasha moaned, leaning back slightly. "I needed this."

Deanna didn't say anything; he just continued massaging the tight joints in her back. Usually she prodded him to do it a bit harder, but on this occasion she just enjoyed being able to relax.

After another minute of that, she said, "You're going to stay now until the baby comes out, right?"

"I think so. I... I feel guilty for leaving Yurligi and Amelo like that... and Jengh, too. But Frecor's men can reach them just as fast as I can." He paused. "I guess if they want me along as a leader, though... it would be wrong for me to say no."

"I'll come with you if that happens."

"I don't think -"

"I'll keep Carla and myself out of harm's way. I promise." She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. "I have to have you with me when... when our first child is born." She felt her eyes tearing up again with gladness at that thought. "I'm not going to let you leave me again until I see you hold our little girl. Not after all the months I've been waiting to see that."

"...All right." He moved his hands lower. "Have the two of you... been okay?"

Natasha bit her lip, thinking of Brehen. "Yes, most of the time. But I... I think I may have done something... awful." She hesitated. "I told Edwin to sign a treaty with Cypress that gives up some of Iom's land. Cypress's minister of foreign affairs came and said it had to be settled right away. There wasn't time to wait for you. It was just a small area of land, and I didn't think we could deal with a war with Cypress right now." Deanna didn't say anything. "Did I do the right thing?"

It took Deanna a moment to answer. "In the big picture? I don't know. I don't know that much about my country outside of the capital. I'm really no more qualified to make that choice than you are. Given what you knew, I'm sure you did the right thing. That you did what you did to help people. That's what you do."

"Thank you," she smiled. "Oh! I almost forgot... You'll never guess who's here."

After a moment, Deanna tried, "Hal and Shim?"

"I warn you that you'll never guess, and that's what you come up with?" she teased.

"Sorry. ...General Mayfair, then?"

"Nope. Rohde."

"...Rohde." She didn't like the way he said that. What he said next was even more unsettling. "Um. Who is Rohde?"

"Are you ser- Oh!" Deanna had paused the back rub for a minute, but he had now resumed, and almost immediately hit a good spot. She leaned back, her eyes closing, momentarily lost in the comfort and pleasure of his touch. Then she murmured, "Come on Deanna... You know Rohde..."

"I'm not good with names," he said in an ashamed voice.

"Deanna... you ordered him in battle... during the war with Warderer..." She couldn't quite manage to get frustrated with him so long as he was massaging her back.

"Well, I haven't seen him since then, have I?"

"But don't you..." She sighed. "I guess you didn't know him as a friend, only as a soldier. He's one of the workers they forced to build Algam fort. I met him after we were separated from your group, and he showed us the fort's weakness."

"...Sounds familiar." He paused in his back rub again. "What's he doing here? And where is he right now?"

"He heard about what was going on and came to protect us. It was awfully sweet of him." Her brow furrowed slightly. "I don't know where he is now... he usually likes to stay in my room. I don't think he's made any new friends here."

"Maybe he heard I was back and decided to give us some time alone."

"That doesn't sound like something he'd do." She reached a hand up to lightly stroke the side of Deanna's face. His cheek felt very warm. "Who knows, though? We don't know Rohde that well; he's never talked much."

She still had her back to Deanna, so she felt rather than saw him nod. "You've... been enjoying having him around, though?"

"Uh huh." There was a silence. _Now's the moment. I've got to tell him about Brehen and what he tried to do._ "Deanna... please don't get upset, but..."


	40. Chapter 40: Downfall

- Chapter 40: Downfall -

Having to battle Emild troops just made Chester angrier. Not at the soldiers - they were just doing their duty, after all. Even Captain Arlese.

It was Akron who had done all this: brought scandal upon honest lords and officials who challenged his actions, put all of Emild in jeopardy in a mad war with Cypress, and now was forcing him to fight his own countrymen for no sensible reason. He had betrayed and dishonored Emild in almost every way imaginable. Others, like Helen, had helped, but it was Akron who was the chief architect of this madness.

To say nothing of the torture he'd been put through to extract incriminating information on Cypress that Akron knew to be false. The frustration he felt when Lana had apologetically told him that some of the damage to his face was permanent was still fresh. It had always made Chester feel good when he could lighten someone's day with his smiling face, and he feared the damage done to his face might make him incapable of doing that ever again.

But angry as he was at all that, Chester remembered that the troops they fought were his countrymen, and ignorant of the wrong they did, so far as he knew. So he kept firing his shots at legs and weapon-bearing arms, rather than vital organs.

"Chester, watch it!"

He hadn't caught the name of the young human who cried out the warning, but he didn't let that lack of familiarity make him pause. The blow came at his left side from a heavy axe swung somewhat awkwardly by a lanky human. Chester had to twist so that he caught only a glancing blow from the flat of the axe, making him lose his balance and fall to the floor. The lower end of his bow ended up pinned beneath him, but firing an arrow wouldn't have done any good at such close range anyway.

The beastman, Halron, leapt over him, landing a strike on his attacker's jaw. A follow-up left hook brought the soldier down.

"You're unhurt, I trust?" Halron said, giving him a hand up.

"Just fine," he answered. "In this dim light... I couldn't see that one sneaking around our front line."

"At least they're not even halfway decent fighters."

"Yes, but this fight is still a waste of blood." Chester sighed. "If I just had enough light to get a clear shot at their leader, Captain Arlese, I could end this in a flash."

"Enough light..." Halron stared at him a moment, then scrunched his face up in apparent frustration. "Damn it, of course. Varmo! I need a mage over here!"

Though he couldn't see Varmo with the dim light at hand, Chester heard him call out an affirmative - followed a few seconds after by a loud cry.

"The fool's tripped," Halron muttered. "Let's go fetch him before one of them takes advantage."

He raced towards Varmo, Chester following. Even he could see that they weren't going to be in time, however. A mage and a heavily armed knight were already bearing down on Varmo. Chester nocked an arrow to his bow, aiming to take out the mage, but there was nothing he could do about the knight; there wasn't a vulnerable point anywhere in his armor.

He loosed the arrow. At the same moment, the brown-haired centaur leading the other group raced forward, throwing his front hooves forward to knock the Emild knight back. The arrow stuck the mage in the chest, sending him reeling back, screaming in shock and pain. The brown-haired centaur thrust his lance into the knight, shouting "For Guardiana!"

"For _what_?" Chester said, but Halron's arm suddenly jerked him forward, driving that question from his mind.

Varmo had just gotten back on his feet when they reached him. "Blessed gods," Chester heard him mutter. "It would be just my luck if I died here, having come this far."

"Chester needs some lighting so that he can get a good shot at the Emild captain, Varmo," Halron said. "Think you can give us a Blaze spell to see by?"

"Where? I can't see him in this blasted darkness."

"That way." Halron pointed carefully.

As Varmo fired off a level 2 Blaze spell, it struck Chester as rather funny that it took three of them to do this simple task: Halron and his night vision to see where Arlese was, Varmo and his magic to make him visible to an archer, and Chester himself and his practiced aim to fire the actual shot. Which he did, taking the most careful aim he could during the brief moment in which the Blaze spell illuminated Arlese's features, and then loosing another arrow.

"Now, Grawler!" he heard Dawn command.

Chester's arrow not only flew true, striking between the joints of Arlese's armor, but was joined by a second arrow, fired by Grawler with a whoop. _Dawn must have had him standing in position near Arlese, ready for an opening like that. I guess she overheard Halron's plan._

The coordinated double attack on Arlese had an immediate effect on the Emild guards. At the sight of their leader being so efficiently assailed, they retreated from the joint Cypress-Emild force, ignoring Arlese's exhortations to fight.

"Good work, everyone," Dawn said, though the words sounded a bit scripted. "Let's move on, before they find reinforcements."

That wasn't likely; Emild had a fairly small army, and most of it was either fending off bandits or invading Cypress. Chester doubted that there were any reinforcements available in the castle, aside from a few solitary guards standing at their posts. Still, he was glad that they'd kept the bloodshed as low as they had, and he had no intention of risking it getting any higher. He followed the others as May led them towards His Majesty's bed chamber.

* * *

"Gone?" Ian echoed, feeling his head begin to swim. He was utterly weary, not just from the toils of his position or from Helen's refusal to be his concubine, but simply from having been awake for so long. The news Akron had just given him would once have galvanized him into desperate action, he vaguely realized, but now it just made him want to collapse.

"No!" Marlin sobbed. "They can't be gone! Not... not _gone_ gone. We can rescue them..."

"I'll be sure to have the guards search the palace, of course," Akron said. "But realistically, they'll have fled here by now, and we have no clues to know where to even begin searching for them. The only true hope we have is that they plan to hold Kay and Emilia as bargaining chips, and that we can get them back that way."

"I... suppose..." Ian began, and trailed off. _Gods, Ian, you're their big brother. You're supposed to stop things like this from happening!_

Ian clenched his fists, willing energy back into his body. "It's those cursed Cypressians. They must have done this, in retaliation for my taking their assassins prisoner. By the gods, I'll make them pay for this, for everything, even if it takes -"

His speech was cut off by the sight and sound of a centaur crashing through the door to his bedroom.

Stepping over the splinters of the door, the intruder said, "Don't be alarmed, gentlemen... and lady... and Your Majesty. I just like making a dramatic entrance." Ian couldn't think of anything to do but gawk. "Okay then, let's cut to the chase. I'm lieutenant Apis, and we're here to talk to you about how your advisor Akron has been consorting against the loyal members of your court, lying to you, framing innocent people of Cypress, and generally doing his darndest to bring Emild to complete ruin."

"I am Akron, good sir," his advisor spoke up.

"Oh." There was a pause. "Well, this is awkward."

* * *

As soon as he heard Akron's voice, Varmo begin pushing his way to the front of the group, all 15(excluding himself and lieutenant Apis) of whom were crowded behind Apis at the door to the king's bedchamber. More anger boiled in his veins than he'd ever felt before. Akron wasn't just responsible for this whole diplomatic crisis - the situation which had forced him into the degrading position of acting as a second-rate soldier. That, he could easily forget. As humiliating as the whole adventure had been, at least it had helped him see a few things about himself. He could even forgive being locked in that stinking prison; though that had of course been an incomparably horrible experience for a naturally classy person like himself, he did enjoy the thought of being able to tell people that he had _twice_ been imprisoned for something he didn't do.

What he could not forget, and certainly not forgive, was Akron's attempt to convince him to work for Iom. Akron had humiliated him, showed him what a coward he was, reduced him to nothing more than a pawn in a political game.

_Me. A pawn._ When he was serving as leader tempore at Castle Cypress, he had thought that he merited the position. He had thought the power and dignity of leadership were intrinsic to him. That belief was already lost to him when Akron summoned him to his study, but Akron's offer had twisted the knife further. He was not merely a weak leader in terms of ethical standings; he was a card to be played by one side or the other for their own petty intents. He had no power to determine his own role in the game. Akron had shown him that.

At the front of the group, he heard Lady Sarah reprimanding, "Could you be any more undiplomatic?"

"Beg your pardon, my lady, but I think the opportunity for diplomacy is well past," Apis replied. "The lot of you were just in prison, remember."

"You should have let May handle it. That was the plan."

"If he won't listen to us, I don't see him listening to May."

Varmo squeezed his way through at last, carefully side-stepping around Lady Sarah. "Excuse me," he said loudly, trusting that Halron was ready to back him up if needed. "I believe I can explain the sit-"

"GUARDS!" King Ian shouted at the top of his lungs, making Varmo wince.

To his surprise, guards indeed appeared; six of them piled out from a door behind Akron. Akron nodded, looking strangely unbothered by the fact that over a dozen armed soldiers had just burst into the king's bedroom. "Rest easy, Your Majesty," he said. "We'll take care of them permanently this time, now that their actions clearly show their hostility towards you."

"Be serious, Akron," Varmo said, forcing himself to keep a cool voice. This was probably his last best opportunity both to prove his leadership abilities and to make Akron look like a fool; he could not afford to flub it. "Surely you are intelligent enough to surmise that we've broken out of our cells and overcome all the squadrons of guards who have thrown themselves in our way. That makes you both outnumbered and outclassed. Simply admit that you've lost so that we can end this foolishness."

"Ah, sir?" Apis cut in. "I can handle the speeches."

"Both of you have spoken enough," the Lady Sarah said. "We're trying to calmly discuss matters with His Majesty."

"This is absurd," King Ian burst out. "You talk of surrender and discussion when the best you offer us is swift deaths?"

"You're mistaken, Your Majesty. King Nicholas has charged me with establishing good relations between Cypress and Emild. If that requires me to overlook your imprisoning myself and my guards, then I will do so. In truth, I think I understand your actions to a certain extent, given what one of my guards and your own May have told me that Akron has been doing."

"May!?" the elf woman standing by King Ian exclaimed. "Oh, marvelous. It appears your suspicions about her were right, Your Majesty."

"The blazes!?" a voice behind Varmo cursed. Before he recognized it as Binuto's, the bloodthirsty young warrior had leapt past him, sword drawn.

Despite the obvious tension, there had been a sense of stability in the room. For all Akron's bluster, it was perceptible that the Emild folk all realized that their situation was hopeless. King Ian was angry but not about to give the order to attack(Varmo had spotted the little boy hiding behind him, and wondered if he had something to do with the king's hesitation). Lady Sarah had seemed capable of bringing matters to a happy resolution despite the unexpected misfortune of Akron being with the king. Binuto's sudden offense thus took Varmo by surprise, and apparently it did the same to the rest of their group, because no one lifted a hand to stop him.

In one motion with his charge, Binuto thrust the point of his sword at the elf woman's heart. King Ian, that pitiful fool, threw himself in the way, obviously with no thought for the fact that Binuto's sword would kill him instead.

Binuto cursed, and released his hold on the sword so that it was harmlessly knocked aside by Ian's intervening body. The elf woman leapt at him, and seized the now unarmed youth by his collar, holding him in front of her like a shield. Her free hand darted to her hip and drew a dagger to his throat. From Binuto's first charge, it had all taken about six seconds - far too quick for any of them to stop it.

"No one move!" the elf woman bellowed. "If anyone lays so much as a finger on His Majesty, I'll rip out this boy's throat so that you can watch him bleed to death. I'll make it good enough that your best healer won't be able to save him."

"Calm yourself, my lady," Sarah said. "I assure you, we had no notion that Binuto would try to -"

She was cut off by a loud laugh. It came from Binuto. "'_Save_ him'?" he chuckled. "'You won't be able to save him,' she says. You stupid bitch, you really think it matters to any of them whether I live or die?"

"We'll have no more blood shed here today," Lady Sarah said sharply. "Your Majesty, I request that you order that woman -"

"Helen," Chester filled in.

"...that you order Helen to get rid of the dagger. If you are worried about Binuto, simply have your men tie him up."

"Not until I'm assured that whatever demands you have are reasonable," Ian said.

"Reasonable or no, you're in no position to refuse them," Varmo retorted.

"Varmo - shut up," Dawn snapped. "That's an order."

Varmo followed the order without objection. It occurred to him that somehow, he had made a moral misstep again.

"You guys don't get it," Binuto said. "These Emild idiots aren't going to negotiate peaceably. Either make them surrender or kill them!"

"Your life is hanging by a thread, you backstabbing wretch," Helen snarled. "One more word out of you, and I'll -"

"You'll what? Kill your only hostage before you've had even one of your king's demands met? My life doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Nothing but Cypress, and Cypress has already won."

"Don't listen to him; he's ranting!" Theo burst out. "Binuto, listen to me! I know how it looks, but we do care if you live or die! I didn't want to leave you to die in that cell back there, I swear! I just didn't want you to kill Halron, either. Can't you see that you didn't leave us any choice?"

"Theo." Binuto smiled. "You don't get it... it never mattered whether I lived or died. I just wanted to do what I could for Cypress before I went. I do want to say, though... I appreciate that you were always friendly with me. Not that it mattered, or that it meant anything to me, you understand, but it was a nice gesture."

"Don't... Don't talk like..."

Varmo noticed Grawler quietly aiming his crossbow at Helen. "Your Majesty," Lady Sarah said loudly. "I must reiterate; if we are to have a civilized discussion, Helen must put the dagger away. My men shall likewise lower their weapons."

"Look, I'll just tell you how I know these guys are never gonna make peace with Cypress unless you force 'em to," Binuto said. "A few months back, this crazy bitch here contacted m-"

"You treacherous lunatic!" Helen screamed, and tore her dagger across his throat.

Theo let out a wail of anguish that Varmo might have found humorous if the violent breakdown of the situation weren't so serious, and if he himself weren't a bit distraught at seeing one of their number killed, however loathsome and untrustworthy that member might have been. In the same moment that Theo lunged at Helen, Grawler fired off a shot that embedded itself in Helen's forearm. She dropped Binuto with a shriek, and Theo knocked her upside the jaw with the end of his bo.

King Ian's reaction was immediate. "Run for it, Helen!" he cried, tackling Theo. "Take Marlin and get out of here now!"

The six Emild guards raced forward to defend their king. "Don't draw any blood yet, people!" Apis ordered the Guardianans. "Wendy, try nailing one of them down with a Sleep spell; I'm going to get Theo out of there!"

The Sleep spell sounded like a good idea, so Varmo cast one of his own. To add to his long string of screw-ups on the battlefield, only Wendy's spell had any effect on its target. Halron had to leap in to protect him from the soldier he'd tried it on.

Taking a second look at the chaos ensuing - a swarm of Cypress, Guardiana, and Emild soldiers in a mad struggle, his own comrades doing their best not to kill anyone - it occurred to Varmo that his attention was better spent elsewhere. He spotted Helen, the cause of this mess on Emild's end of things, reaching for the little Emild boy in an apparent effort to follow King Ian's orders and take him away. The boy darted away from her, though, shouting something about "not going anywhere with you" and having to "stay with Ian". Varmo considered using her distraction to take her down, but she immediately accepted the boy's recalcitrance with a scowl and fled to the rear of the room, entering a hidden passage by the bed. He wouldn't be able to catch her, and there really wasn't much point in doing so.

That left a more pleasing target: Akron. The smug little schemer was standing calmly by the sidelines, watching it all as though it were some show put on for the audience's amusement.

Varmo shot towards the dwarf and knocked him from his feet with a blow of his staff.

Akron pulled himself up with a grunt. "Gods, that was a cowardly blow - striking an unarmed advisor."

"It was well deserved," Varmo snapped. "Enough of your innocent act. I swear that I'll burn you to ashes with a spell if you don't put a stop to this madness right now and tell His Majesty the truth: that you're Iom's agent in this country, that you've been directing everything to eliminate Iom's enemies, regardless of how loyal they are to Emild, that..."

He trailed off, struck dumb by the sound of Akron laughing. Not evil maniacal laughter, but a laugh of moderate amusement. "Iom's agent?" he repeated, still chuckling. "That's what you thought? That I was the special agent Iom had assigned to Emild?"

"You deny your god?" Varmo challenged.

"Oh no, no no, you misunderstand. Certainly, I am an Iom worshiper; there is clearly no point in hiding that now. But I am not the executor of his will in Emild. I'm merely here to ensure that the agent Iom assigned to this country does her work according to schedule."

"Her?" Then it hit him. "You mean... Helen."

Akron looked as though about to reply, when someone shouted "Demon Breath!"

A wave of darkness tore into Varmo's back, igniting every nerve in his body all the way down to his toes. Trained though he was in magic, the impact still knocked him down to his knees. W_ho could cast such a spell? It wasn't Akron, and none of his guards looked like mages... though I suppose that doesn't entirely rule out one of them knowing such a high-level spell..._

Both further speculation and attempts at orienting his eyes on the source of the attack were cut off by a blow to the back of his head. He managed to observe that the rest of the team seemed to have been struck down as well before his face rudely hit the floor, but that was all. Faintly he could hear the little boy - Marlin, was it? - crying.

"W-why? Ian trusted you! Why did you attack him, and the Cypressians?"

"Because Iom has a use prepared for them, Marlin," he heard May saying, just before consciousness slipped away. "And no matter how much it may pain me, there is nothing I would not do for Iom."


	41. Chapter 41: Prisoners of Iom

- Chapter 41: Prisoners of Iom -

When she surfaced to consciousness again, Mayfair was hungry and thirsty, and her joints all ached. Her first reaction was to roll from her back onto her side and reach for a warm body that wasn't there, murmuring, "Nick..."

Her fingers encountered cold stone, and her eyes shot open, realizing that her surroundings marked her location as a dank dungeon. A manacle clasped her right wrist, and a chain joined it to two more around her ankles and to a stone in the wall.

Her thoughts immediately turned to who had abducted her. Much as she wished otherwise, it was highly unlikely that the deed had been pulled off entirely without the court of Sharland's cooperation; the halls were well-guarded, and even after subduing her, there was still the question of eluding search parties while within Sharland's borders.

Trouble from Sharland could scarcely have had worse timing. And then, there was the question of why. Abducting her made no sense politically; Cypress would hold Sharland responsible, whether they'd done the deed themselves or not. True, Sharland knew nothing of Guardiana, and hence might believe they could conquer Cypress, but that was a risky move with limited benefits. Tyber might certainly conclude that Sharland could not be allowed to seize complete dominion of their part of the world, and ally with Cypress. Even Iom might be persuaded to do the same.

So political ends did not explain it. That left personal ones, and Mayfair wondered if Muriel might have taken action out of jealousy. Nick certainly would have been a desirable catch for her, after all.

"Ah, dear Mayfair. Are you adjusting to your new accommodations?"

The sound of that voice made her stiffen for a moment. Then she desperately yanked at her manacles in an instinctive attempt to escape. _Oh gods, it was all a part of his game... the past year and a half was all just him toying with me! He let me escape, let me join the resistance, allowed us to kill him, all so he could come back and torment me over and over, before finally... Good spirits, has he come to end it now? To kill me?_

"Save your strength, dear child. Those chains won't break - not against human hands, certainly." There was a sound of dry bones scraping against stone, and a figure began to emerge from the darkness at the far end of the hall. It was still too distant to make out, but there was no need for visual confirmation.

"Woldol," she said, and let the chains fall slack. Her fists clenched, gathering her courage. She could not dispel the irrational fears that flooded her mind at the sound of his voice, but she could at least face them with dignity. "Why abduct me? Of what use am I to you? Or are you that concerned with petty revenge?"

"Why capture you?" He was well visible now, and Mayfair had to restrain a shiver. No longer a creature of ice; he was all ghastly bones. "Why not? You presented us with a splendid opportunity. Ah!" he sighed, intertwining his skeletal fingers. "You don't know how I've looked forward to seeing you again, dear girl. Ah, but you're no longer a girl now, I understand. Your beloved Nicholas has made a woman of you, yes?"

"I don't need a man to make a woman of me," she snapped. "Growing up is something everyone has to do for themselves."

"As opinionated as ever, I see." He was very close to her now.

"You've made a big mistake," she said, pulling back. "Nick will -"

"Come for you? Well, naturally. A brave man like Nicholas must come to the aid of his beloved."

"He won't 'come for me'. He'll rescue me and finish you, whether that requires his direct involvement or not." It was not a bluff. She knew, with the firmest of certainty, that Nick would save her and their unborn child.

"Have you forgotten, Mayfair? I have already died. So long as Iom wills my existence to continue, there is no 'finishing me'." He lifted a hand to her cheek, and she jerked away at the touch of dead bones. "But perhaps he will rescue you; I do not argue that point."

Woldol reached behind her, seized her hair, and pulled her face up to his. For a split second she looked directly into his stark skull, rocky teeth locked in a perpetual grim frown, nose a hollow void, the twin pits of darkness that were his eye sockets plainly focused on her. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, terror completely gripping her. She forgot her resolve to not show weakness.

"That only gives me more reason to enjoy my time with you while it lasts," Woldol's hollow tone finished. "Are you ready to play a little game, Mayfair?"

* * *

"This is... most unusual, Muriel," Nick said, closing the door to his study behind them.

She nodded. "It is not for my sake that I wish to keep this private, Your Majesty. The news I bring might cause a panic among the nobles who have pledged their allegiance to you, something I assume you would prefer to avoid."

"Well, hurry up and give it to us," Gyan said, folding his arms and leaning against Nick's desk. "If we stay in here too long, they're liable to suspect Nick knocked me out and is indulging in some marital infidelity."

Nick turned his face away. "Gyan. Be a silent observer, if you don't mind."

"Sorry," Gyan said, sounding genuinely subdued.

"You took a great risk coming here, Your Highness." He played his fingers upon his desk. "Luckily, the attack from Emild has died down for the moment, but enemy soldiers still lurk near the castle, and you came here with almost no escort. I presume you have some important information concerning Emild, then."

"No, Your Majesty... No, it isn't that..." She wasn't sure how to continue.

Nicholas looked up at her, his eyes as piercing and handsome as ever. She couldn't bring herself to fully meet his gaze. "Queen Mayfair?" he said, his voice weak.

"I'm so sorry." She covered her face with her hands. "Iom worshipers... they infiltrated the castle during the night, and kidnapped her..."

"WHAT!?" He grabbed her by the arms. "I placed my queen and my unborn child under your protection, and -"

"Woah, Nick," Gyan intervened, clamping a paw down on his shoulder. "Take it easy. We don't even know the whole story yet."

"The only other thing of importance is if Sharland has rescued her yet. Well? Have you?" he demanded.

For a moment she was stricken by his reaction. Not out of fear of his wrath, however; she knew Nicholas well enough to know that he was not a man to lose his temper, particularly not in a diplomatic situation. This was not the reaction of a man outraged at his allies having failed an important trust. This was disturbingly like the reaction of a man who fears for the life of the woman he loves...

She shook her head weakly. "They've taken her to the main shrine in Iom to be sacrificed. If you hurry..."

"And how do you know that?"

She had intended to tell him. But faced with the realization of just how angry King Nicholas would be whether or not he loved his wife, she couldn't do it. If Nicholas were to know what Saul had done, he would confront their father about it. Then their father would disown Saul, so that he could maintain good relations with Cypress. She couldn't let that happen.

"A servant overheard them talking as they took her away. She was unable to raise the alarm in time for us to stop them." Nicholas stared at her. "I'm so sorry. But I came here with all the haste I could manage; if you hurry, there's a good chance that you can save her."

"Oh, I'll hurry." He released her, and stalked towards the door. "But don't think that the matter of your failure to keep Queen Mayfair and my heir safe is finished with. I advise you to pray that they are unharmed when I find them."

His hand was already turning the knob when Muriel gathered enough courage to ask what she wanted to ask. "Wait!" she cried, lunging forward to take hold of his arm. She stared into his face, trembling. "What... what are your feelings for Mayfair?"

"...I don't understand what you're asking."

"I'm worried that you might not save her in time, and... Please, tell me I was wrong about the two of you! Tell me you're not in love with her."

He jerked his arm free and snapped, "Whether I'm in love with her or not is irrelevant. Mayfair is precious to me, and immeasurably valuable to Cypress as queen. It is worth doing everything in my power to bring her back safe - and woe to you if my effort is for naught."

He strode from the room, and she listened to his footsteps falling rapidly, but each with firm purpose and conviction of heart...

"Your Highness, if you please..." Gyan said, clearing his throat, and it hit Muriel that in his anxiety over Mayfair, Nicholas had left his study without either excusing her from the room or inviting her to come with him. Since it was not appropriate for her to remain in one of his personal rooms by herself, that left it up to her to leave on her own.

She nodded and went out into the hall. Nick's lack of etiquette had put her in an awkward, uncomfortable situation, but that was no more than a tiny fraction of the punishment that she deserved. She could hardly expect him to follow formality when his beloved was in danger.

"I have to follow His Majesty, Your Highness," Gyan added, walking away. "So excuse me... I'm sure one of the servants will conduct you to some guest quarters..."

It took but a few minutes for her to be guided to a bedroom, but she felt ten years older by the time she got there. Once left to herself, she could at last bury her face in the bedsheets and weep. She heard Nick's words over and over: _"Mayfair is precious to me... worth doing everything in my power to bring her back safe..."_

"Dear gods," she sobbed. "What have I done?"

* * *

"This is like a bad habit for us," Jaha said, relaxing in the manacles that dangled him from the wall. "First the raiders. Then the Emildians. Now it's the Iom worshipers. Is there anyone this little party _hasn't_ been bound and gagged by?"

"Sorry, Jaha," Theo said. "When General Mayfair chose me for this mission, I wondered if for once, she hadn't made completely the wrong decision. I'm not wondering anymore."

"Woah, woah there, bud. I'm not blaming anyone. It's not like just one person could get us into all these big messes."

Lana sighed. "Yeah, we haven't exactly been the pride of Cypress on this mission, have we?"

"That's not true," Dawn said. "You all did everything required of you. You followed orders, you fought well, you stood by each other. This was just an exceptionally difficult mission... and you were all saddled with an exceptionally inexperienced leader. I should have gotten us all out of Emild while I had the chance. My bad decision there is why we were thrown into Emild prison, and now are going to be sacrificed to Iom."

"If we can all stop blaming ourselves for a moment," Varmo interjected, "...I think we're overlooking the two most important aspects of our situation. One, unlike our previous two abductions, Lady Sarah - the woman we're supposed to be guarding, if you all remember - is nowhere around. Two, we were captured by a woman who's supposed to be your friend!"

"What are you talking about?"

"It was May! She's the one who blasted us with all that magic. I overheard her, just before I lost consciousness."

There was a moment of silence where no one could find anything to say. Dawn closed her eyes briefly, then reopened them. "That's an interesting thought, Varmo, but May has been our friend for too long. More importantly, she fought against Iom with Jaha and me. You must have misheard. You were losing consciousness, you said, so -"

"I know what I heard," he insisted. "It wasn't just her voice; it was her manner of speaking. And I had my eye on Akron the whole time, so it couldn't have been him!"

"C'mon, Varmo," Jaha said. "We know May; that just doesn't make sense."

"Actually, Jaha," a new voice interrupted, "...I'm afraid it does."

May stepped into the cold chamber with soft footsteps that nonetheless echoed in the stony quiet. The bottom of her robes swayed just above the floor... new robes. The thick, crimson robes of a high-ranking Iom mage. A new, more elaborate staff also in hand, she turned and surveyed the collection of prisoners.

"Ohhh... I get it now," Jaha said. "Evil doppelganger, right?"

"No, Jaha," May replied. "Though a part of me wishes that were so. It's me, Jaha... really me. You remember how when we were fighting Gordon, I threw myself in the path of his Freeze spell to protect you and the others?"

"Well... uh... maybe you inherited her memories?"

"That's just nonsense, Jaha," Grawler put in. "Gotta admit, though, lady... it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to see you working for Iom, either. Betraying your friends - that, I can understand. Er... not that I've done it myself, or would," he hastily added, glancing at Dawn. "But that sort of thing, I've seen. But fighting for something you already risked your life to fight against? That just doesn't figure."

"And what about us - your friends?" Chester was almost in tears. "Or Emild? Iom killed our beloved king, May... and I'll bet anything he means to do the same to his children! Because of what you've done, Emild is lost; it will be swallowed up by Cypress, and that's if its people are lucky! The May I know would never do this to them, and to..."

"To you?" May finished. "Are you starting to fill in the blanks now, Chester? I used you to fuel King Ian's paranoia and get rid of Lord Albert. While it's true that I wanted to get a look at His Majesty's papers, the main reason I asked you to fetch them for me was so that I could shuffle a forged letter from Lord Albert into the pile before asking you to return them." She smiled slightly. "It's ironic, isn't it? When you were caught, King Ian suspected you of attempting to destroy that seditious letter from Lord Albert, when in fact, you were planting it."

"Then why go to all that effort to assuage His Majesty's suspicions? If you were just going along with Akron's plans the whole time, that -"

"They were never 'Akron's plans'. Akron only served two purposes: to relay messages to High Priest Leifo, and to be the one to take the fall if Iom's plans for Emild fell apart. That's why he took on the role of fueling His Majesty's paranoia and not me. Most of my attempts to counteract his influence on King Ian were feints, efforts that I was certain would be useless, and served only to make me appear innocent in case King Ian chose to trust Cypress. And my devotion to Iom doesn't mean I don't still love Emild. I did what I could to help our nation, just so long as it didn't interfere with Iom's will. I even tried to help you, Chester; I tried to convince you to flee to Cypress. I knew that if you stayed, either King Ian would have you executed, or I would have to do this." She looked away. "You were bound to interfere with my god's plan."

"Then we can take some solace in having ruined that plan," Varmo said, raising his head. "No matter how foolish King Ian is, even he will see that we wouldn't have spared him in that last encounter if Cypress were his enemy."

"Will he? You don't think I could convince His Majesty that I saved his life by driving you all off with those spells?"

"But... Prince Marlin saw what you did. I heard him."

"But how will Marlin tell anyone? According to the story Akron and I gave His Majesty, you made off with the boy before I could stop you."

"And Helen?" Chester threw in.

"You think she might have seen what happened, you mean?" She shook her head. "I don't think she did, and even if I'm wrong, it doesn't matter. She caught up with us when Akron and I were conducting His Majesty to a safe place. His Majesty had quite a few choice words for her for having disobeyed his orders and abandoned Marlin to his fate. I couldn't follow everything His Majesty said - he was ranting - but I gather that she had recently spurned his romantic advances, which added a bit of extra fire to his rage. As far as His Majesty is concerned, her deliberate failure to protect Marlin makes her a traitor as well. He's finished with her." A sad smile crossed her face. "Ian is a good man, I think - just twisted by grief. His decision to banish Helen instead of having her executed shows how much he still loves her, despite her betrayal."

"So... Will Iom ally itself with Emild to defeat Cypress, then?" Varmo said.

"You all still don't understand what I was trying to accomplish with King Ian, do you? Now that Iom's plan has succeeded, Akron and I will convince His Majesty to surrender to Cypress and sign that military alliance you handed him. He must bide time for his vengeance, we'll tell him. Then we will coax him to marry and work on siring an heir. Sort of a breeding stock for royal sacrifices to Iom. Emild is too valuable to Iom now to let the nation destroy itself in a war with Cypress."

"Then what was the point of encouraging King Ian's paranoia against Cypress?"

"To have a scapegoat for when we kidnapped his siblings to sacrifice to Iom, and to ensure that Cypress wouldn't be able to interfere with my plans without convincing Ian of your conspiring against him. It also explains your disappearance from Emild's castle."

"I don't believe this," Chester said. "You're telling me that when I was all worried about you for running off to recklessly confront Akron..."

"...I had actually just come from meeting with him, yes. I told you half the truth. Akron summoned me because my fellow agents of Iom in other countries had informed him the time was right to take King Ian's siblings. When I bumped into the lot of you, I was on my way to the prison cells with a full set of keys. I was going to set you all free, convince you to flee the castle, and once outside the walls, lead you into a trap. Instead, you were freed by these four... Guardianans, I believe you called them. That threw me off, so I decided to go along with your plan, at least until I could figure out who these four strangers were, how powerful they were, and whether or not you already knew about Akron's plan to kidnap King Ian's siblings."

"Thanks for finally bringing us into the conversation," Wendy snapped. "You crazy witch, when the rest of Guardiana realizes we're missing, they'll rip Emild apart to get us back!"

"Long before Guardiana's rescue mission even leaves their borders, we'll have acquired our true objective. You see, the lot of you are merely bait for King Nicholas. That's why the timing of our abducting King Ian's siblings is important; we wanted to seize you at the same time as we acquired Deanna and Queen Mayfair."

There was a clatter of "What!?", "No!", and other expressions of incredulity from the prisoners, before giving way to Halron at last voicing an intelligible question, "You mean to tell us that Queen Mayfair is here?"

"No. She and Deanna are both en route. I can understand if you all are unwilling to believe anything I say now, but Iom's reach does extend all over the world."

"Still haven't answered my question, lady," Grawler said. "Why side with the same bloody god you spent so long fighting against?"

May turned and walked away. "I don't expect any of you to understand. No one alive can truly know how much Iom means to me. I'm sorry to do this to all of you, but you're only my friends. Iom is my life."

Through all of May's explanations, Dawn was quiet, her brow lightly furrowed, occasionally scrunching her face into a full frown. At the conclusion of May's last little speech, however, she burst out, "Sweet Cypress... I know what's going on here!"

"We're being brainwashed, and this is all an illusion?" Jaha said eagerly.

"No! Jaha, Chester, you remember our fight with Iom, don't you? Did you see May fall?" May froze in her steps. "After the battle, I saw her still lying there, looking as if she were dead. She was totally still, and I couldn't see any breathing. Then when King Nicholas laid her on my back, she made a noise, so I thought I must have been mistaken. But I wasn't, was I May?" May said nothing. "Tell me."

May turned around. "Yes. I thought you might figure it out, Dawn. As you noticed, I died in the battle with Iom."

"Hah!" Jaha jeered at Dawn. "And you always made fun of me for believing in ghosts!"

"I'm not a ghost, Jaha. When the battle was finished, just before Iom slipped back into hell, he restored me to life. I was only able to rejoice with the rest of you afterwards because Iom's power sustained the life in heart, my lungs, my limbs."

"And you feel obligated to him because of that?" Dawn asked.

"It's not just that. Once Iom's power gives you strength, it never leaves you. His power guides my every major decision. It guided me through every step of my betrayal."

"You don't have to listen to it, May!" Chester cried. "I know you're a strong person. Fight it!"

"Don't you think I've tried!?" May's strong front dissolved, replaced by a flood of tears. She pressed her face into her wrists. "It doesn't matter how strong I am, Chester; fighting Iom's will is useless! My loyalty to him is the only thing that keeps his power within me, and his power is the only thing that keeps me alive! You might as well ask a puppet to cut its own strings and walk away. Remember when you confronted me after I spoke up for you to King Ian? I tried to tell you then, tried to warn you that an agent of Iom was behind this, and the life drained out of me as soon as I moved my lips to say the words."

"I... I thought you were just faint, because you'd been worrying so much over..."

"Even if I had the will to defy Iom, all I would accomplish by doing so is my own death. I'd give almost anything to save you all, but... not if it means betraying Iom. I owe him my life."

"He was the one who took it from you in the first place!" Dawn snapped.

"Only because I attacked him first!" She pulled her hands from her face and glared at Dawn. "Ohh... Beloved Iom, it's useless. I can't make any of you understand Iom, how cold and lonely he is, how hungry with every moment of his existence. You can't understand... no one who hasn't heard his voice can."

"Then you're doing this because you love Iom, not because you have to."

"Maybe... If Iom's power weren't forcing me to do this, I don't know whether I'd choose to betray you or Iom." A heavy knocking interrupted. "Ah, good; your caretakers have arrived."

She walked away and, with quite a bit of effort, opened a heavy oaken door. Four lizardmen poured in. They nodded at her and took sentry positions before the prisoners.

"I'm sorry about all this," May said as she stepped out. "Please don't try to escape. If all goes according to plan, all of you will shortly be returned safely to your homes. Only King Nicholas and the princes and princess of Emild will die. Whereas if you escape, I will have to sacrifice all of you to Iom. And I warn you... Iom has given me greater magic than I could have learned in a lifetime under normal circumstances."

She closed the door behind her.

* * *

Marlin had never been so frightened in his life, not even the day his father vanished and the palace shook itself almost to complete ruins. Kay kept on saying that Ian would rescue them, but Marlin couldn't believe it. He saw Ian before May dragged him away; his brother was out cold. How could he even know where they were?

And Emilia just kept on crying. That really made him feel sick to his stomach - Emilia was the one who could always calm Ian down. He wanted to shake her and tell her to stop her bawling, but just the thought of actually doing it made him feel all rotten.

The door to their cell suddenly swung open, and May stepped inside, accompanied by three lizardmen. She looked so awfully sad. Marlin couldn't help but feel a jerk of sympathy, even knowing what she'd done.

"It's time for you to follow in your father's footsteps, children," she said.

She nodded at the lizardmen, and they moved forward and seized the three of them, prodding them out of the cell and into the corridor. May led the way. Emilia was still blinded by tears, so Kay took her hand and led her along. Feeling left out, and plenty scared himself, Marlin grasped their sister's other hand.

They were brought to the altar of Iom. The room, while vast, was uncomfortably warm from the heat of the sacrificial pool. May walked to the edge. "Less than a year ago, I fought to prevent you being sacrificed in a place like this. Now I'm doing the deed myself."

"Why?" Kay choked out.

"I'd gladly give my life for the three of you," she answered. "But my life belongs to Iom now. It isn't mine to give. You first, Kay."

The guards prodded Kay forward. Emilia let out a little cry as his hand was pulled away from hers.

"Kay!" Marlin called as they led him to the edge of the pool. "I'm sorry I didn't run away like you told me to."

Kay just looked around himself with a bewildered expression, as if unable to comprehend that this was actually happening. May cast Levitate on him and guided him over the sacrificial pool.

"To Iom our evil ruler, your servant, May offers you the blood of royalty. Accept my offering! Accept our sacrifice."

As quickly as that, Kay was gone.

While he was still staring at the sacrificial pool in disbelief, May called Marlin. He moved to obey the prodding of the guards, but Emilia lunged forward and grabbed him by the arm. "Noooo!!!" she sobbed. "Not Marlin... Not Marlin..."

May approached them. "Emilia, I'm sorry, but you don't have any choice."

"No! Do me first!"

"Huh?" Marlin said, staring.

"Let me go first! I... I can't stand to watch them kill you. Don't let me be the last one... don't leave me alone..."

His heart clenched. "No... No, you can't ask me to do that..."

"Please!" She hugged him fiercely, her tears soaking into his tunic. "Please, Marlin... I'm sorry for everything bad I did to you... Just please, don't go..."

Feeling her warm arms wrapped tight around him, he couldn't find the strength to say "no" to her. _Lousy brat... Even in the end, Emilia gets whatever she wants. Gods, I hate her! _"All... All right," he said, heart a painful lump in his chest. "Her first."

May guided Emilia up to the altar. _Come on! Ian or somebody's got to save her! This can't be happening... not to little Emilia..._

His sister turned and faced him. He yearned to look away, but he forced his watering eyes to stay focused on her. It was almost unbearable, but if he looked away, he'd be leaving his sister completely alone. This way, at least one of her brothers would be with her when... when...

May's Levitate spell lifted her away. "To Iom our evil ruler, your servant, May offers you the blood of royalty. Accept -"

"Emilia!" he called out without thinking. "I love you!"

She smiled faintly, as though hearing that was all she wanted.

May paused, apparently to make sure they had both said their last words to each other. "...Accept my offering. Accept our sacrifice!"

Emilia fell out of sight. There was a faint splash from the sacrificial pool.

The guards had to pull Marlin off of his hands and knees to bring him to the altar. "I... I can't imagine how hard that must have been for you, Marlin," May said. "You're a very brave boy. I'll get this over with as quickly as possible; it isn't much, but I think you'll feel better once you're reunited with your father and siblings as part of Iom's being."

"I'm sorry, May," a voice interrupted. "...but that simply isn't going to happen."

King Nicholas the Second strode into the room, Gyan at his side.


	42. Chapter 42: Finale

Author's Notes: Well, here are the final chapters. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me this whole time. While my production rate for this novel has been considerably higher than that of the average fanfic, I don't pretend that 20 months isn't a long time to wait to see the whole of a piece of fiction.

It's been quite a few years since I've finished a novel; for a long while I've been focusing on short stories and novelettes. The experience has been pretty epic. At times I felt like I was writing some of the best stuff of my life; at others I just wished I could have this darn thing finished. Having readers is what makes both sides of that experience worthwhile, so thanks for being here, and for listening to my self-indulgent reflections in these two paragraphs.

On a note likely to be of more interest, Shining Monthly will soon be on hiatus. Not, however, before two last short stories, one of which will tie up a few of the loose ends of this novel. Check out my profile page for details. Now, without further ado...

- Chapter 42: Finale -

"Welcome to the shrine of Iom, Your Majesty," May said. "I suppose I should explain why I'm doing this..."

"That won't be necessary, May," Nick answered. "I already surmised what happened. I'm truly sorry that this tragedy befell you while fighting to defend my soldiers and I. Now, simply turn Prince Marlin over to me and tell me where to find Queen Mayfair, and my business here will be finished."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Your Majesty. Both my loyalty to Iom and my duty to Emild forbid me from handing someone as important as a prince of Emild over to Cypress. However, someone is due to arrive here with your queen very shortly, so simply be patient and your concerns in that regard will be satisfied. In the meantime... High Priest Leifo, now is the time to show King Nicholas our prisoners, correct?"

A robed man Nick had spotted when he entered the chamber stood up and pressed a panel in the wall. In response, a large section of the wall moved away, revealing Apis, Wendy, Chester, Lady Sarah's entire escort, and a few faces that Nick did not recognize, all held to the walls of the chamber by manacles and with gags around their mouths. A quartet of lizardmen stood guard over them.

"Indeed, it is time, May," Leifo said. "Give me a moment to open up the room where we're holding the Lady Sarah."

"So this is a hostage situation, I take it," Nick observed. "What do you want?"

"Only you, Your Majesty. We can sacrifice your queen, your unborn heir, your noblewoman, your loyal soldiers, and your friends to Iom, or we can sacrifice you."

"Hardly an even trade. So obviously my life holds something especially valuable to you. Marlin and I are the last royal sacrifices you need to revive Iom, aren't we?"

"I'm afraid not. Your attack on Iom with the Sword of Hajya has banished him for an extended period of time, regardless of how many sacrifices we offer him. Your sacrifice will give him the strength to be reborn when the time comes, but that is many years away. For now, Iom will be satisfied with having the king of Cypress dead, and the Sword of Hajya safely in the possession of his servants. As we expected, I see you brought the sword with you."

Nick shook his head. "Queen Mayfair, Lady Sarah, and a collection of Cypress's most promising soldiers is an exceptional catch, and if revenge means anything to Iom, Queen Mayfair and Lady Sarah have both done more harm to his struggle for power than I have. Why give all that up just to claim my life? You have something to gain that you aren't telling me."

The Iom priest rubbed at his sleeves. "That is not your concern. You -"

"Oh come now, dear Leifo," a voice interrupted. There was a staircase leading to a floor below the chamber, and as Nick watched, a skeletal figure emerged from it. In his arms was Mayfair, gagged and bound with chains. Her eyes focused on Nick, not with anxiety, but in search of some sign of what he intended to do. "Is there really any reason to hide it? May, tell the dear king why we intend to take his life as I took the rest of his family's lives."

Nick dug the fingernails of one hand into his palm. _Easy, Nick. If you lose your temper, everything is lost._ "So you've chosen to crawl out of your hole, Woldol. If you were expecting me to be shocked to see you here, I'm very glad to disappoint you."

"At least you did not disappoint your dear wife. While I was having fun with her, she kept on crying out for you to help her, screaming your name at the best parts. I can't imagine how heartbroken she would have been if, after all that suffering, you did not come for her at all."

"That's the most transparent lie I've ever heard. Even in the unlikely event that you did manage to make her scream, Mayfair would never futilely plead for help."

"Believe what you will. Incidentally, my belated congratulations on your marriage. I can't tell you how it moved me to learn that this woman had won your heart. Knowing you as I did before your father's passing, I would never have guessed that you could fall for someone who wasn't bursting with superficial charm."

Nick smiled. "So what makes you assume I fell for her?"

"Something about the way she moaned your name while she was unconscious, I think." Mayfair blushed and looked away. "Clearly she misses you."

_He's baiting me,_ Nick realized. _Goading me into discussing things that make Mayfair uncomfortable - just one more way of tormenting her. And I just took the first piece of bait. Time to stop this._ "Again I'll ask: Why all of them just to get me?"

"Iom doesn't enjoy people being murdered for him, King Nicholas," May said. "He much prefers that his servants give their lives to him willingly. Unfortunately, his hunger is great, and too few are willing to unselfishly surrender their claim to this world and join his being. That is why he has had to claim many sacrifices by force. You have the opportunity to become one of the few people of royal blood to willingly sacrifice themselves to Iom. For that, he will gladly trade these dozen more common sacrifices. That is one reason.

"The second reason involves your unique qualities as a person. When you were infected with Iom's poison, your arm turned to stone..."

"What does that matter?"

May's eyes turned towards the ceiling. "There are many possible reactions to Iom's poison. The most common one is death within four hours of infection. For the infected area to turn to stone is... Let's just say that it's an extremely rare reaction. It indicates several exceptional qualities as a person. Your spirit is harmonized with the essence of your nation to an extent seen in only a few kings of Cypress; Iom has fought Cypress for long enough to know this. When you are sacrificed to Iom, therefore, he also taps into the essence of Cypress. That will give him as much freedom to wield his power in Cypress as he has in Iom. And the easier it is for the people of Cypress to call on Iom's power..."

"...the more Cypressians will be converted to his worship." Nick nodded. "I see. An effective long-term plan. Iom won't be revived, but the two strokes you describe will make him much stronger when he eventually is. So now the scales are tipped the other way: Wouldn't I be a fool to agree to this trade?"

"You've already made that decision, dear Nicholas," Woldol said. "You didn't have time to muster your army before coming, yet you presented yourself here despite having only Gyan with you. Certainly if you planned on defeating us, that would be a move of pure idiocy. And you must have anticipated that the price for your subjects' freedom would be high. So please, drop the pretense and let's get on with this."

"Very well."

He stepped forward, but Gyan seized him by the shoulder. "Nick, you know I can't let you do this. My life is to protect you at all costs."

Nick sighed. "I'm sorry Gyan, but you will let them kill me. You're not just my protector, you're my friend, which means you know why I have to do this. As both a king and as a man, I can't let them be killed. And you know I'm willing to fight you if you try to stop me."

"I can't let you die." Gyan's grip on his shoulder tightened. "You mean too much to Cypress, and to me."

"Gyan..." Nick looked at him. "Remember, I only agreed to let you come because you swore you would do as I said." He turned back to May. "I agree to the trade. Now release the prisoners."

"We're not fools, Nicholas," Woldol said. "We'll release them after you have dismissed Gyan, discarded your weapon, and stepped onto the altar."

"I'm no fool either, Woldol. I will do none of those things until the hostages are released."

"There's no need to dig ourselves into an impasse," May interrupted. "Your Majesty, if you but dismiss Gyan, we shall give you Queen Mayfair as a sign of good will. I give you my word that the others will be released as soon as you have complied with all of Woldol's demands. You can watch them being released as you are sacrificed."

Nick considered. "Very well. Gyan, leave us."

"Nick..." Gyan clasped his arm.

Nick looked his friend in the eye. "Go. Wait outside for the others. Protect my child when he is born."

Gyan silently complied.

May nodded to Woldol. "Release Mayfair."

Woldol emitted a wisp of dank air from his mouth; Nick supposed it was a sigh. "Never have I been so tempted to defy Iom's will. Here you are." He grasped Mayfair's bonds, and they swiftly rusted and came loose in his grip. "Go to your husband."

Mayfair didn't spare him a backward glance, but ran straight to Nick. "Nick," she gasped out, short of breath, "...what are you doing? Do you honestly intend to surrender yourself to them?"

"Yes."

"You can't! Good spirits, Nick, you're our king! You have a responsibility to stay alive so that you can continue to serve your people."

"And I have a responsibility to not let my people die because of my mistakes. I promised myself that wouldn't happen again, Mayfair." His eyes focused on hers. "I should have anticipated that you would not be safe in Sharland, and either insisted upon your staying at Castle Cypress, or admitted the existence of Guardiana to Sharland. Because I did not, your life is in Iom's hands. I should have been prepared for there being a presence in Emild hostile to Cypress that was influencing King Ian's choices. Because I did not, good, loyal Cypress soldiers are being used as hostages."

"It's not your fault. I was the one who was captured."

"True - and utterly meaningless. Anyone would have been captured in your situation, including myself. You were abducted in your sleep, not beaten in fair combat."

"All this business about it being your fault is utterly meaningless as well," she returned. "You have to forget your overdeveloped sense of responsibility. The only thing that matters is that Cypress can't survive without you!"

"Mayfair, I'm only one member of the royal family. I'm not worth sacrificing both you and our child; you two represent the future of the Cypress throne."

"Child!?" Woldol exclaimed. His hollow eye sockets pointed towards May and Leifo. "No one informed me that Mayfair was with child!"

"There was no need for you to know," May said with perfect calm.

His fist clenched. "You're still swayed by loyalty to your friends."

"As long as I don't interfere with Iom's will, I may be as loyal to my friends as I wish. Our god doesn't exist just to satisfy your perverse desires, Woldol."

Mayfair looked at Nick with increasing frustration. "Nick, you're the one who carries royal blood, not me. If our child and I die, all you need to do is remarry and sire another child, and the royal family will be as strong as before. If you die, Barro and your son will be the last of the line! They're just children, Nick! And if something happens to me before they come of age..."

"That's a risk that must be taken." He lowered his voice so that Iom's followers would not hear. "Our child is a blending of two truly exceptional bloodlines; he has the potential to be Cypress's greatest king. If I lose the two of you, I won't be able to recreate that perfect offspring."

"Good spirits, Nick, you're talking about giving Cypress a perfect king when the nation's very survival is on the line! If you can't give me one good reason why we should make this trade, then stop this nonsense and go back to Cypress to do your duty: being king, and hope for your people."

Mayfair wore only a worn and dirty nightgown, undoubtedly the one she had been kidnapped in. Her hair was disheveled and tainted with specks of dried blood. Two possible sources were the cuts on her face: one on her cheek, another on her lower lip. Yet despite her state, Nick could count but a handful of times when she had looked more beautiful. He knew she had to be physically exhausted from her confinement, yet he could spot no sign of weariness in her strong, firm pose. She stood before him, physically small and graceless, honestly humble, yet unflinchingly defiant. Against his greater authority, intellect, and physical strength, she stood resolved to not let him sacrifice the king of Cypress for a collection of his subjects.

Without a word, Nick gripped her firm waist with one hand, cupped the back of her head with the other, and kissed her with every ounce of passion he had. He put into the kiss his every frustrated desire to touch her, to possess her, to call her his own, all denied simply because he would not tell her that he loved her.

He expected her to resist. Instead, she returned the kiss. It was a weak response, but plainly out of unfamiliarity with the act, not out of any sort of hesitation. It made him hate himself just a little for what he was doing, even as he allowed himself to indulge in the pleasure of the tender movements her mouth made against his. Even knowing that Woldol was watching did not dampen the experience.

Not until he was out of breath did he release her. After a deep breath, he said, "Mayfair, I love you." She just continued to stare at him in shock. "I must have loved you all along... I was just afraid to face it. I wanted to rule Cypress as best I could, and knew love would interfere with that. But it was my duty to marry you, the best queen Cypress could ask for. The only way I could be married to the woman I love without faltering in my performance as king was to completely deny my love. When I heard that you had been taken captive by Iom... I couldn't deny it any longer. I'm sorry." He shook his head. "If the only way to save your life is to sacrifice my own, then I do it willingly. Even if Lady Sarah and the others weren't also at stake, I would do this. Since they are, my choice is easy."

For a moment she remained speechless.

Then her face flared with outrage, and she slapped him. Nick let out a cry of pain at the blow. It was not a deliberate, reprimanding slap like the ones she'd dealt him before; it carried all the strength of her anger behind it.

"You... you..." She trembled, but not out of weakness. "There's no word to describe how despicable you are!"

Nick rubbed his cheek. "You said before that you wanted me to love you."

"Not like this! Not if it means that you put that love before your love for Cypress! You mean to betray the people you have pledged your life to defend... every last man, woman, and innocent child of Cypress... all just to save the woman you love!?"

"No. I mean to entrust those people to your hands."

"You know full well that I can't do a competent job of that on my own! I have no training or experience in almost any of your responsibilities. Most matters I can handle, perhaps, but the ones which I can't will spell disaster for Cypress!" Her expression calmed. "Do you remember when we were battling Iom, and you told me to prove that I love Cypress more than my king by letting you risk your life fighting Iom? Now I'm asking you to prove that you love Cypress more than your queen."

He studied her face for a few moments. "I can't, Mayfair. I'm sorry."

"I won't let you do this!" she snapped. "I won't let you make me the cause of Cypress's downfall!"

"How can you stop me? Even fully rested, you would stand little chance of overpowering me, and trying will simply give Woldol and the others a chance to take advantage. Please, Mayfair... try to see this as an opportunity to save not only yourself and our child, but Lady Sarah, Dawn, and all the others."

She glared at him helplessly for another moment, then turned and stormed off.

"Well, Nick?" Woldol prodded. "Are you and your wife finished with your last feud?"

"Yes." Noting that both he and May seemed to have forgotten about Marlin, he stepped towards the sacrificial pool. "Let's finish this. But first, I want to see someone with the key to those prisoners' shackles."

May nodded, and looking to the entrance Nick had come in through, said, "You may come in now, Lieutenant Jengh."

The lizardman stepped forward, nodded at May, and held up a key for Nick to see. He then walked towards the prisoners. The three lizardmen guards who had brought King Ian's siblings in followed him, guiding Marlin along. Nick caught a brief glimpse of the look on the little prince's face. It was a look he'd seen many times before, one he knew as well as his own reflection. Apis began shouting, imploring him to listen to Mayfair and get out of there, but Nick ignored his... friend.

Woldol held out a hand. "Your sword, then?"

Nick handed the Sword of Hajya to him as casually as he could manage; letting his frustration show would only please Woldol. Then he took his place on the altar.

"May!" Dawn cried at the top of her voice. "Please, don't do this!"

May hung her head. "I'm truly sorry, Your Majesty... that this is how I repay you for everything you and your subjects have done for Emild. Lieutenant Jengh, you may begin unlocking the prisoners' bonds." She took a breath, and raised her head. "Levitate!"

_This is it,_ Nick thought to himself as he watched the lizardmen release one of Lady Sarah's attendants. _No more will good people die because of my mistakes. This ends it, once and for all. I could never live up to your legacy, father, but at least I've taken responsibility for my failures. I've served my people, and my friends, as best as I can._

With that, he raised a hand and said a single word. "Shield."

The spell interfered with May's Levitate spell, leaving him suspended several feet above the floor. Nick smirked at the astonished looks on Woldol and Leifo's faces. "I surmise that your Cypress agent, Daemon, failed to inform you of the time I was spending in the library. Or perhaps he didn't even know. Or most likely, neither of you were smart enough to take into account the one area in which I am my father's better: I have an aptitude for magic. Until a few weeks ago, I had never studied Shield, but once I came to the conclusion that it might come to this, I let my queen tend to my other responsibilities for a few hours and set about learning the spell. Good things happen to people who use a little foresight, you see."

The lizardmen guards were still freeing the prisoners. Having loosed Halron and one of Lady Sarah's attendants, they were working on Jaha. Noticing this, Leifo cried out, "Stop that, you fools! Can't you see we've been tricked?"

The lizardmen looked around in perplexity. The altar was a good distance from where they stood, so none of them had heard "Shield," nor could they see the faint traces of the spell as it resisted May's efforts. From their perspective, the king of Cypress was floating over the altar just as planned, making it hard to figure out what Leifo was screeching about.

Halron did not fail to take advantage of their confusion. The key already in the lock binding Jaha's legs, he seized one of the guards, hefted him in the air, and hurled him away. As he had counted on, Jaha was able to finish freeing himself. The dwarf then threw the key to Lady Sarah's attendant. "Free the others!" he exhorted. "Hurry!"

Halron tossed the small axe he'd taken from the first lizardman to Jaha, and the two of them fought to hold off the remaining three while the unarmed attendant fumbled with Dawn's manacles.

Immediately after Leifo gave the warning to the lizardmen, Woldol made his own observation. "Desist with the Levitate spell, May. You're only wasting magical energies."

"No!" she yelled, furrowing her brow. "He must be sacrificed to Iom!"

"That spell's not working, and we can't perform an informal sacrifice when he's floating out of our reach!"

"Iom's will... a proper sacrifice..."

Woldol seized her by the throat. "Your bullheaded attitude disappoints me, May. It appears that if Iom's will is to be done, sense must be forced into you." He tightened his grip until May's eyes seemed to bulge out her sockets and her breath nearly ceased. She lost her focus on channeling her energies into the spell, and Nick dropped to the floor, neatly landing on his feet. Not wasting an instant, he lunged forward and seized Woldol's right hand, the one holding the Sword of Hajya. In his left hand he gripped Woldol's ulna and radius, and with one mighty pull, he ripped the hand off, its skeletal fingers still clutching the sword.

Though Woldol had undoubtedly anticipated having to deal with Nick once May's spell was discontinued, this swift and brutal move took him by surprise. He dropped May and lunged at Nick. Nick sidestepped the lunge and, not wasting time with prying the death grip Woldol's hand still had on its hilt, leveled the Sword of Hajya at him. "It's time for you to meet yet another death, Woldol."

"You think so? Jengh's reinforcements have already come to overwhelm you and your whelps..."

A roar sounded from the entrance to the chamber, and Gyan bounded in, his massive feet pounding against the floor like rolls of thunder. "They'll have to get through us first, Woldol!" Mayfair came running behind him, and Nick's heart sank. _Damn Gyan! He was supposed to get them to safety!_

He forced himself to focus on dealing with the situation. "Claude!" he shouted. "You must be here - grab May before she recovers from Woldol's attack!"

Exhilaration swept through him as Claude soared up from the edge of the sacrificial pit and snatched May off the floor. May squirmed to cast a spell on Claude, but he administered a hold to render her unconscious.

"Leifo," Woldol said. "Our prisoners are freeing themselves, and I cannot handle all our enemies by myself. Unless you wish to fail Iom once again..."

"V...very well," Leifo quivered, raising his staff. "We should have just sacrificed the rest of them before Nicholas got here; his wife probably would have been enough to make him agree to it."

"You're a disgrace to our profession!" Mayfair cried at him, her face burning with fury. "A priest's duty is to help people, not murder them!"

"By your god's rules, Your Majesty. Not by my god's. For Iom, I now willingly sacrifice my mortal being!" He gave a wave of his staff, and a shining beam of light fell down upon him. It was difficult to make out through the light, but there was an impression of Leifo's body changing, distorting. When the light faded, there stood an 8-foot tall creature with four clawed arms and a head like that of a tarantula.

Nick cursed, and hastily retreated towards the former prisoners.

"Why so shocked?" Woldol asked them. "You've witnessed a lowly Cypressian ambassador call upon the full power of Iom. Did you really think that our god's High Priest himself could not do the same?"

"No one get near that thing until I've struck it with the Sword of Hajya!" Nick ordered.

But the others were still too busy with the guards to attack Leifo. Hacking his way through to Lieutenant Jengh, Jaha hollered, "Where've you taken Deanna?"

"Deanna?" Jengh snarled. "He led your army to victory over Warderer, and you repay him by seeking his death?"

"Death? What are you, a nut? We want to get him out of this stinking dungeon!"

"He's not here, you fool!" Jengh wielded his axe in a stroke that nearly knocked Jaha's weapon from his hands. "I ordered my men to help him finish his search after freeing him!"

"Freeing...?" Dawn echoed. "Hold it, Jaha! Natasha mentioned she and Deanna were helping people out in Iom; maybe this is one of their friends!" As she came near, Jengh took a swing at her, making her rear back. "Listen to me, Jengh! We're Deanna's friends from Cypress!"

"Deanna has no use for soldier friends from another country! Even alive, you're nothing to him but memories now. To him, you may as well be dead. And to Iom, you're better that way!" He swung his axe in a well-practiced blow, one which found its home in Dawn's torso.

Having just been freed, Dawn was wearing no armor, only a light shirt. The blade ripped into her collar, sliced through her right breast, and gouged deeply into her belly, before finally tearing its way back out through the equine hide of her pelvic area. Blood spewed from ruptured veins and arteries, soaking her shirt and pouring down to form a thick pool of crimson on the shrine floor.

"Dammit!" Dawn screamed with a final burst of energy. She had no weapon, so she reared up on her hind legs and aimed a kick at Jengh. Her front hoof smashed into his face, shattering nearly a dozen teeth and knocking the lizardman flat on his back. That done, she slumped to the floor. "Dammit," she repeated, tears flowing down her face. "Can't die like this... not even a weapon in my hand..."

Several things happened at once. Grawler cried out to Dawn, straining ineffectually against the shackles that still held him. Jaha flung himself at the guards, swinging his axe to drive them back. The lizardmen dragged Jengh away, despite him snarling through his blood-covered face to never retreat. Apis leapt forward to catch and support Dawn, holding her steady so that Lady Sarah could tend to her mortal wound.

And Halron bellowed with rage, charging towards Leifo and Woldol. "No more!"

Nick realized he had to direct Halron into something that would fit with his plan; the beastman was so enraged, he might not back off even at his king's command. "Halron! Grab Leifo so that I can strike!" he ordered.

Halron seized the Leifo creature in a hold, locking his hands together. "Got him!"

Nick leapt forward and drove the Sword of Hajya up through Leifo's chest until its point protruded out through the top of his head. Leifo roared in agony. Before Nick could dive out of range, the creature released a thick cloud of black venom, splattering both him and Halron. He could barely restrain a scream of pain, and even he lacked the will to remain standing, instead falling to the floor and squirming as the viscous fluid burned through his skin.

"Nick!" he heard a voice calling. "Nick, hold on - and hold still!"

He forced his body to comply with the voice's directions as best as he could, and then a pair of hands lay on him, hands he would recognize anywhere. His eyes peered open to look at Mayfair's face, to read her emotion. She showed nothing but firm resolve. "This situation... seems rather... familiar," he forced out, offering her a half-smile.

"Were you lying, Nick?" she said, as little emotion in her voice as there was on her face. Her hands worked a spell to deteriorate the venom. "Are you still the King Nicholas I knew, not a man too weak to accept his duty?"

"Yes. I was lying," he answered without hesitation. _Strange... she doesn't seem relieved to know that._

The two Guardiana dwarves had stepped forward to fend off Leifo, swinging at the creature with axes they'd picked up from the lizardman guards. Lana stood by, ready to heal either of them if they needed it. Apis directed the three of them, though he was unable to fight directly without a weapon to use. Even with the Sword of Hajya buried in his chest and head, however, Leifo seemed quite willing to fight on, almost overwhelming the two dwarves with his four clawed arms.

Woldol shuffled towards Halron. "Very moving to see you still spring to your husband's defense, Mayfair," he said, reaching down to grasp Halron's throat and drain the life from him. "That leaves this one undefended. Watch now as I show how wasted all the training you gave this youth is."

He was interrupted by Wendy casting a level 4 Blaze spell on him. "Take that! Too bad for you that one of your reinforcements was a mage! All he did was give me a good staff to - Huh?" Her face fell, realizing her spell had had no effect.

"Oh, honestly, Wendy. Where do you see anything in my body to burn? Simply be patient, and I'll tend to you in a moment."

But another figure ran towards them, a helmet taken from a shrine guard under one arm, babbling, "I'm sorry Jane, sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry - Nyuuuh!" With that last grunt, Theo hurled the helmet at Woldol's head. It was nearly point blank range, and the force of the throw knocked the skull off of his neck and flying into the sacrificial pool. That done, Theo fell to his knees beside Halron.

"That was reckless," Halron remarked, still wincing with pain at the venom, though his fur coat had shielded him from it well enough.

"Well..." Theo scratched the back of his head. "I saw what His Majesty did to Woldol, so I figured I could do the same. We can't let His Majesty do all the work, can we? And Wendy cast that Attack spell on me, so it seemed a shame to not use it."

"Fair enough." Halron got to his feet. "But stay back from now on. You've done your part, and there are too many people back in Cypress who will be upset if you don't make it back."

Nick sat up; Mayfair had taken care of most of the damage, and he needed to coordinate his troops' attacks if he was to prevent another one meeting the same fate as Dawn. "Everyone... fall back!"

At the sound of his voice, Leifo headed towards Nick. His legs were still unsteady, and Mayfair had to help him to his feet so that he could back away.

"Listen!" King Nicholas shouted, letting his voice ring with the courage and confidence to inspire them. "He's vulnerable in the area where the Sword of Hajya is lodged in him. If we attack there, he'll split in two. First, we could use something to keep those four arms from overwhelming anyone who tries to attack. Is anyone here versed in the Slow spell?"

There was a moment of silence. "I... I think I am," Varmo piped up.

"You 'think'?" the king said sharply.

"I... I am," he gulped. "I'll do it."

"Good. You three with axes, strike his vulnerable spot. Halron, Gyan, try to restrain the creature so that they can do their work. Lana, stand ready to heal anyone if they need it, but don't get too close if they don't. Everyone else, keep watch for more guards, and see that nothing interferes with Lady Sarah's healing Dawn. Understood?"

They all nodded, eyes showing the certainty that he had hoped to pour into them. Leifo was almost upon him now, though the wound from the Sword of Hajya slowed him down. "Attack!" Nick ordered, stepping back so as not to risk his all-too-valuable life, but remaining near enough to give new commands should the plan go wrong.

Leifo released a dry chittering from his fangs; perhaps a final threat, or perhaps a dawning realization that his god was about to fail again. Varmo cast his spell, then hastily fell back. Gyan and Halron grappled with the creature's arms, restraining him as the dwarves' axes struck his flesh, splintering vile flesh and brittle shell. Stroke after stroke fell, until the torso split open, spilling innards on the floor. Before long, it was over.

"Well done, everyone," Mayfair said, her voice ringing with well-justified pride in the soldiers she had trained.

Nick retrieved his sword, sheathed it, and turned to them all. "Indeed, you all have my thanks. But celebration should wait until we are safely out of this place. Gyan, if you wouldn't mind carrying Marlin..."

"What's the use?" Marlin said, not even looking up. "They're gone! I... I should have saved her... You were just one second too late; if I had run up and grabbed her, she'd still be alive!"

"But she _is_," Claude's voice called. Nick looked up to see the birdman overhead, Kay and Emilia in his arms. Emilia was unconscious, but Kay called out to Marlin.

"But... I saw May sacrifice both of them!"

"She tried to," Claude explained. "I was snooping around and overheard that there were going to be some sacrifices, so I snuck in here, thinking Mayfair was going to be one of them. I hid along the edge of the sacrificial pool so no one would see me unless they were on the opposite side. King Nicholas had instructed me to protect the three of you if I could, so when May dropped these two in, I caught them and dropped a rock I'd brought along for just such an occasion, so they'd hear a splash. I had to drop my sword for Emilia's splash. Got a little tricky once King Nicholas sprang his trap. I figured he would need my help, so I had to leave these two hanging onto the edge while I took care of May."

"Are... are you going to bring them down?"

"Just wanted to explain things before you got caught up in your reunion," he said brightly, and came in for a landing. Marlin ran to embrace Emilia, waking her with a start. Tears of joy ran down his face at being able to hold his little sister again. Kay put his arms around them both.

Nick couldn't take his eyes off the sight.

"Something wrong, Nick?" Gyan asked.

"No," he answered. "It's wonderful. Bringing those three back alive to King Ian is part of what I was fighting for."

"Come on, Nick... I know you. Maybe nothing's _wrong_, but there's more to it than what you just said."

King Nicholas turned away. "I suppose we'll have to use Apis and that other centaur there as mounts for the Emild royal family. Gyan, you take May. If she starts to wake up, Wendy can cast a Sleep spell on her."

"And Dawn?" Mayfair said pointedly.

"We'll see what we can do. Much as it pains me to say so, if she cannot walk on her own in the next few minutes, we may have to abandon her. I can take us a good distance back with Egress, but not all the way back to Cypress."

"...I understand." Mayfair lowered her eyes, the lines on her face contorting so slightly that Nick doubted anyone else noticed.


	43. Chapter 43: Awards Ceremony

- Chapter 43: Awards Ceremony -

The party's return to Castle Cypress was received with great enthusiasm all around, both friends and strangers greeting them with relief and congratulations, but most of it was peripheral to Theo's eyes. He wanted to see Jane - to say what he'd been waiting to say since the day he'd rejected Lana's advances.

Jane ran to him when she saw him, and before he could think of anything to say, she was kissing him. It took him a moment to forget the snickering of onlookers and kiss her back. She felt so warm and right, her mere presence a welcome relief after an arduous journey with companions who were indifferent to him at best.

"Theo..." Jane held him tight. "You're safe! I was so afraid..."

"It's okay. Dawn and the others looked after me. But..." he swallowed. "You were right about Lana."

She snorted. "Figures. She'll never change. So... what did you do?"

"I... told her that she's a nice girl, but that I love you, and couldn't betray you."

"You should have embarrassed her more. Someone needs to teach her a lesson." She laughed. "Then again, that just wouldn't be you, huh?"

Her response surprised him. "Aren't you going to check my story with Dawn? When I left, you said -"

Jane blushed. "Forget what I said when you left. I trust you."

"It's okay; you can ask her. I know how you feel, and I think it's better if you're sure about this."

"Okay, fine. But only because I want to talk to her about how things went with her, too. I trust you, got it?"

"Yes," he said, surprised. _Maybe she was just in a bad mood the day I left. Or maybe... maybe she just threw a fit in the first place so that I'd feel grateful for her trusting me in the end. But even if that's what it was, it doesn't change things. I can live with being manipulated now and then. It's worth it._

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

He swallowed. "Jane... I've got a question to ask you."

* * *

Once immediate affairs had been taken care of, and the two of them had heard the reports from Lady Sarah, Sergeant Dawn, Lieutenant Apis, and Claude, King Nicholas and Queen Mayfair summoned the members of Lady Sarah's escort to the throne room.

"All of you have our gratitude," Nick said. "I know you may feel ashamed by various parts of your adventure - Sergeant Dawn, at least, has told me that she does - but I assure you, you fulfilled all our hopes. Because you successfully made the dangerous journey to Emild, we were able to begin relations with them at last, as well as expose the agents of Iom at work in their court. And had you not fought so well against Leifo and Woldol, your king would have perished. Cypress may well owe its continued existence to your valiant struggles."

"We are very proud of each and every one of you," Mayfair put in.

"In light of the honor you have bestowed on Cypress, especially considering that none of you knew what difficult tasks you would be called on to accomplish, I grant each of you one favor. You may ask anything of me. However, I already have a gift in mind for one of you. Sir Varmo, step forward."

The kyantol did so, with deliberate elegance.

King Nicholas took a moment. "Sergeant Dawn tells me that you realized the traitor Binuto had murderous designs on one of your comrades, and handled the awkward task of organizing the rest of the team in keeping a watch on him, ultimately exposing his treachery. That is... a considerably better display of leadership than you showed during your time in charge of Castle Cypress. Good enough, in fact, that I feel confident in offering you a new post. During your mission to Emild, Daemon was discovered to be an agent of Iom, so Cypress now needs a new Minister of Decorum."

Varmo started. "Your Majesty, I -" The king had to wait a few moments while Varmo struggled for words. "That is... a very gracious offer, Your Majesty, and I am most tempted to accept it. However, during my adventure, I... I came to the realization that I do not have the... the moral integrity to handle leadership yet. I am trying to master my impulses, but until I have succeeded, it would be unwise for me to take on any leadership position." He tilted his head up with renewed confidence. "As you know, power corrupted me before, and it would corrupt me again."

"Your Majesty, may I interject?" Dawn spoke up.

"You have my permission to do so," the king assented.

"I can say with complete certainty that Varmo is being too hard on himself. Aside from everything else, the very fact that he is making an effort to restrain his less honorable tendencies speaks well of him. More importantly, power only corrupts him when there's no one to check him, which would not be the case when he's Minister of Decorum."

"Those are nothing but assumptions," Varmo said. "You can't know that I'm really trying to 'restrain my less honorable tendencies'. As for your wishful thinking about when power corrupts me -"

"All irrelevant, Varmo," the king interrupted. "The one thing that truly matters is that you are competent enough to do the job. No one else is, and we need a Minister of Decorum. I'll certainly risk your acting unjustly before I'll allow someone else to simply fail to do the job. Ordinarily I'd accept your reluctance, but as it stands, we cannot afford to wait for you to grow into the moral integrity you feel you need for the position. Your duty to Cypress is to simply take it. Will you?"

Varmo drew a sigh and nodded. As he stepped back to stand with the others, he said, "But no one can say I didn't tell you, Your Majesty: You're making a big mistake."

"We'll see. ...Sergeant Dawn, step forward."

Dawn was a little unsteady on her feet as she stepped forward. Though Lady Sarah's magic had saved her life, she had yet to completely recover her strength.

"First, sergeant, I want to express my condolences for the wounds you suffered fighting in my defense."

"It's nothing." She smiled weakly. "I always wanted a scar or two to show people that I'm an experienced warrior."

Lana scoffed, "Dawn, no one but your lovers are going to see that scar."

Dawn went red. The king said, "Lana, I did not give you leave to speak. You are dismissed from this audience. If you have a boon to ask of me, request it by letter. Now go."

Lana, taken aback, stammered, "I... I'm sorry, Your Majesty." She fled the room, head held low.

"That may have been a bit too harsh, my king," Mayfair said gently.

"I will not tolerate insolence towards the heroes of Cypress, not even from one of their own," he returned. "Sergeant Dawn, have you a favor to ask?"

"Only... Only that you do something to help May."

The king smiled. "Rest assured, we are doing everything we can to break Iom's hold on her. You will be informed immediately of any progress. Have you nothing to request for yourself?"

"Maybe I'm being presumptuous, but I assume that it's already been decided to promote me to lieutenant, despite my less than perfect performance as a leader. That's enough for me." She clenched her fist. "I would love another shot at Lieutenant Jengh, but I prefer to wait until my duty calls for me to fight him again."

"I am hopeful that Cypress will not have to battle Iom again for another generation or more. If I am proven wrong, however, I will try to see to it that you have that opportunity." Dawn bowed and stepped back. "Sir Jaha, step forward."

The dwarf approached, scratching the top of his head as if he had an incurable itch.

"Have you a favor to ask?"

"Yeah - I mean, yes, Your Majesty." He pointed to his head. "I want a new pot. First those dern raiders put a big dent in my old one, and then the Emild guards con... con..." He frowned and turned to Varmo. "What'd you call it, bud?"

"They... they..." Varmo's head furrowed as he struggled for the word. "...They _confiscated_ it."

"I'll have the royal blacksmith prepare you the sturdiest pot in Cypress," King Nicholas said.

Theo came forward next. "Your Majesty, I ask your leave to marry."

There was some snickering. Mayfair spoke up, "Theo, do you and your fiance plan to retire from service as Cypress guards?"

"No, Gen- Your Majesty. Now that the wars have ended, we thought..."

"Then you have no need of our permission to marry. You are not a servant."

"Oh. Well, then I... I ask for you to pardon Binuto's disobedience, and let him have a warrior's burial."

That surprised Nick a bit. "Binuto is practically a traitor. According to Sergeant Dawn's report, he attacked one of your comrades and later, by a single act, turned what was 'a tense, but stable situation' - to use Dawn's wording - into complete chaos."

"Yes, but... Your Majesty, he could have killed King Ian, but he deliberately stopped his strike. And we might have all been killed by Grawler's band if he hadn't stepped in. Doesn't that make you think that maybe he had his own reasons for doing what he did, and that those reasons involved doing his duty to Cypress?"

"Whatever his reasons, they are no excuse for insubordination. Binuto will be buried as an ordinary citizen of Cypress, no more. That is not debatable, even as the favor I owe you."

Theo turned his eyes to Mayfair. "Queen Mayfair, please..."

"My husband has made a wise decision with concern to Binuto," she answered. "I agree with everything he's said, and furthermore, I knew Binuto well enough to suspect that his motives had little to do with his duty to Cypress. His death is a tragedy, but nothing more." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Theo. Ask a different favor of our king."

He stared at the two monarchs - not with indignation, but as though seeing his own failure. "I... No. To ask a favor for myself, while my... my comrade is buried without honor... that wouldn't be right."

Of course, he had already asked for leave to marry. _But then, Theo must have known that a common marriage doesn't need the king's permission. He must have asked it only in a fit of excitement over his engagement._

"As you wish, but as I have said, Binuto's burial is not debatable." He leaned back in his throne. "Sir Halron, step forward."

The beastman approached and went down to an exceptionally low kneel.

"Have you favor to ask me, Sir Halron?"

"Your Majesty... there's nothing more I could ask for. You and Queen Mayfair gave me a second chance. Because you sent me on this mission, I discovered that I could be accepted for who I am. And you gave me the chance for acceptance in the first place, by pardoning Dantom for his crimes. I do not know what to think of my uncle or why he did what he did, but you are most merciful for not holding my family responsible.

"You did all this without any action on my part to deserve it. The only favor I have left to ask is that you allow me to consider all my efforts on this mission as a small measure of repayment for all the kindness you have done me."

Nick considered a moment, then, deciding that the youth sounded sincere, he nodded. _Best not to make too much of the debt he owes Mayfair and myself. _"If you consider that sufficient, then you are more than welcome to it. I pray that you will continue to serve us as faithfully and effectively as you did on this mission."

At last Grawler presented himself. "Your Majesty," he said, and bowed awkwardly. "Sorry, but I don't know how all the fancy etiquette works around here."

"Don't concern yourself. For now, it is sufficient that you are appropriately respectful." He rubbed at his jaw. "However, you are due to give an explanation for why you are here at all. You had the opportunity to return to your fellow raiders in Emild."

"Changed my mind about that. I've met an interesting bunch of people in this group, and I'd like to stick around and see how their stories work out. Besides, I like fighting for justice instead of just gold. So, I want to enlist with your army."

Nick noted the startled expressions on the faces of Lady Sarah and the rest of her guards; Grawler had plainly not shared his intentions with them. "To accept a foreign bandit into the Cypress army is... unorthodox, at best."

"Yeah. But I've heard that you're a man who does unorthodox things. And the rest of the group can vouch for me."

_One can't fault his confidence, or his intellect. Still... none of this proves that he's trustworthy in the long run. A rogue can have passing phases of honor and integrity._

"I'll consider it," he answered at last. "My inclination is to admit you, but I'll need more time to think the matter over. Rest assured that if you cannot enlist, I will see to it that you are repaid for the assisstance you provided my troops."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Grawler bowed again, and stepped back.

Nick stood. "Since that is all of you, let us go now to join the celebration of your victory. You have all earned it."

* * *

When Deanna was told that Jengh and his men had returned from their mission, he expected nothing more or less than a report from the lieutenant himself. Leaving Natasha in Rohde's company, he followed the messenger to a room in a section of the palace he'd never seen before. There he found not Jengh, but an unfamiliar sergeant. Sir Edwin, who had also been summoned, arrived shortly after.

"Lieutenant Jengh wassss injured in battle and cannot talk right now," the soldier explained. "I'll come right to the point."

With that, the lizardman showed them into the room. Deanna reeled back in shock when he saw who was within: Yurligi and Amelo.

"Wh-why did you bring them here?" Deanna stammered, unnerved by the way the two of them were trembling with fright, though the fear in their eyes was somewhat soothed by his arrival. "Didn't Jengh take care of our enemies at the shrine? Shouldn't it be safe for them to just... go home?"

"Ssssir Deanna... we were too late," the sergeant growled. "You now behold the king and queen mother of Iom."

Deanna was speechless for a moment. He wasn't sure what this meant. Certainly, it was very bad for the Warderer devotees to have a figurehead, but was Amelo really of any use to them when he was in the hands of their opposition? He wasn't sure. Nor did he know whether this would make it more difficult to crown King Aaron's heir.

"You gave Jengh orderssss to _help_ Amelo and Yurligi," the sergeant went on. "So we thought we ssshould asssk your approval before killing Amelo."

"What? No!" he burst out. "We can hide them here. With Amelo gone missing, the supporters of Warderer's line will assume he was killed anyway. There's no need to hurt him."

Yurligi's eyes brightened with gratitude.

"Deanna..." Edwin said in a warning tone. "What you're suggesting is very dangerous. Now that he is officially king, so long as Amelo lives, anyone else we crown will be illegitimate. If the Warderer loyalists _ever_ find out that Amelo is alive - whether tomorrow, or next month, or 30 years from now - the nation will erupt into civil war, war that will not end until one king or the other is dead. If the two kings have sired children by then, it will go on even longer. It would be worse than if we simply surrendered to the Warderer loyalists and acknowledged Amelo as rightful king."

"Then..." Deanna stalled, his mind racing. "...Well, why not do that? Why not acknowledge Amelo as king? He may be Warderer's son, but he's our friend. He'll do what you advise him to until he's old enough to make good decisions on his own."

Edwin grimaced. "I could accept that, but... Are you really willing to betray Jengh, Frecor, and all your other supporters, to say nothing of your brother's memory, by giving the throne to Warderer's bloodline?"

"I... I..." He stood there for a minute, trying to find another solution. And failing. He lowered his eyes at last, and said in a firm voice, "Send for my wife."

"Deanna, Natasha is eight months pregnant. This isn't the time for her to be bothered with -"

"Don't you think I've thought of that?" he snapped. A moment later his face fell. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't..."

"No, you're right. ...What I said was out of line. I apologize." Edwin nodded to the messenger who had summoned him and Deanna. "Bring Natasha here. And do not speak a word of what you've heard in this room to anyone, do you understand? Or your life, and the lives of anyone you might have told, is forfeit."

The messenger nodded and left. Noticing the worried look on Deanna's face, Edwin said, "Don't worry. The woman is one of the most trusted servants in the palace. I sincerely doubt that we'll have to carry out that threat."

When Natasha arrived, and had been told of the situation, she was as adamant as Deanna had hoped. Though unable to bend down to Amelo's level with her swollen belly, she introduced herself to him with a smile and reached down to clasp his hand. Then she turned back to Deanna.

"You can't let them hurt Amelo, Deanna. He's just an innocent boy!"

"I know, but... what should we do?" he asked.

"Keep him hidden, like you said! This doesn't have to be a problem."

"I've just told you of the dangers..." Edwin put in.

"An innocent person's life is at stake! That's worth any risk." The sight of the impassioned creases forming on Natasha's face sent a pleasurable throb through Deanna's heart. There was so much about Natasha to love, but the courage with which she acted on her compassion was one of the things he loved best.

"And if the boy is discovered?"

"_If_ that happens, we'll deal with it the best we can. But however it turns out, at least we'll have _tried_. At least we won't have given up on Amelo!"

Edwin sighed. "Deanna, surely you understand how unreasonable it -"

"No, she's right," he said. He put an arm around her shoulder. "We have to protect Amelo. It's the only right thing to do. Even if I hadn't promised Yurligi I'd save him, that would be true." He looked at Natasha, his face twitching with a frustrated sadness. "I just wish we had a better choice... something that wouldn't put Iom in danger..."

"Maybe we do," she said hopefully. "Maybe we're just not thinking of it right now. And hiding Amelo will buy us some time."

There was a silence as Edwin stared at the two of them. A shiver ran down Deanna's spine. _What if... what if Edwin decides it's too big a risk, and has Amelo killed after we've hidden him away? I hate to think that of him, but it's possible. We can't risk Edwin knowing where Amelo is kept. Maybe Dust can help..._

"By Iom... that's it!" Edwin burst out, his whole expression flooded with illumination. "How simple... Yet if it weren't for the sight of you two, I'd never have thought of it." Deanna and Natasha looked at him blankly. He smiled and said simply, "Marriage."

"Whose marriage?" Natasha asked.

"King Amelo and Gillian - the third person on the list of King Aaron's heirs," he said, voice sparked by excitement. "She's just seven or eight years older than Amelo. They can become king and queen of Iom! The two will serve as puppet rulers for us until Gillian comes of age, of course, but after that, it is Gillian who will rule for the next seven years; Amelo will still be too young! In the meantime, we can use the urgent need to rebuild the royal family as a pretext to provide Gillian with a concubine. She can sire an heir to the throne who won't be tainted by Warderer's bloodline -"

"But the child of a concubine can only rule if Amelo never ssssiresss any children of hissss own!" the sergeant interrupted.

"He won't. They'll sleep in separate beds, and no one will be able to prove that Amelo isn't simply impotent. Do you all understand? We'll acknowledge Amelo as the rightful king, but in practice, no descendant of Warderer's will ever rule. It'll satisfy followers of both lines."

Natasha nodded eagerly, but Deanna fidgeted and said, "There's one problem..."

"I know. You haven't found Gillian yet."

"But we will," Yurligi said. "I can use my powers to help... I swear that I won't rest until we find her."

"It is still risky," Edwin acknowledged. "The Warderer devotees won't be able to complain so long as Amelo as king, but as for our supporters... a few hate Warderer so much, I doubt even this arrangement will satisfy them. It's not as clean a solution."

"It's good enough," Deanna said. "More than good enough."

To his surprise, Yurligi embraced him. "Thank you," she gasped. "Thank all of you so much... for everything."

Deanna wasn't sure which made him happier: knowing Amelo was safe, or the pleased look on Natasha face.

* * *

"I gave you specific orders to take her to safety," Mayfair heard Nick saying to Gyan as she entered his study. His voice was quiet, but laced with a fierce anger. "Did you see reason to think my orders unwise? Did you think yourself well-suited to devise an alternate plan, one better than following -"

"Stop it, Nick," Mayfair interrupted. "Gyan wanted to follow your orders. I didn't give him a choice."

He turned to her, face like hardened steel. "Explain."

"Did you truly think I'd let you throw your life away as easily as that?" she said. "I went to enlist Gyan's aid in getting you out of there, with or without your approval. He told me of you plan then, but I didn't believe him. You could easily have fabricated a story like that to convince me to flee. So I told him that if he didn't help me save you, I would go by myself."

"He should have forced you to come with him."

"How? By throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me away? You yourself pointed out the problem with that: it would have given the shrine guards the opportunity to take advantage."

"No, Nick's right," Gyan said. "Whatever the circumstances, the fact is that I failed to carry out his orders. It was my job to find a way to get you out of there whether you liked it or not."

"Everyone fails sometimes, Gyan." Her eyes glanced at Nick's face, which had softened. "Nick knows that. He was only mad because he thought you'd disobeyed him." She paused; Nick said nothing to contradict her. "Would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?"

"That's the royal couple's right," Gyan said, winking at the two of them before he stepped out.

They said nothing for a moment.

Mayfair looked out the window. "Tell me, Nick... did you plan all of it? Everything that followed Lady Sarah's departure for Emild?"

Nick's mouth twisted. "Yes and no. It would be more accurate to say that I planned _for_ all of it. There were multiple possible outcomes of several situations."

"Specifically?" She kept her posture disinterested.

There was a knock at the door.

"This could take quite some time to explain," Nick said, and called out permission for the knocker to enter. A servant came in and placed a plate of peppers, cloves, and tips of meat on a small stand. "A bit of nourishment while we talk is in order."

Wondering if Nick had planned for that before he began his tirade against Gyan, Mayfair picked a pepper to munch on.

"It bothered me that the war with Iom had seemingly wrapped up so neatly," he began. "Things don't work that way. Eventually it occurred to me: if Iom had an agent in the court of Emild, namely Gordon, why not ones in Sharland, Tyber, and even Cypress? And of course, ever since you told me of Gordon, I've felt certain he would have planted other agents there before his departure."

"Which is why you were prepared for Daemon."

"Yes. I asked Gyan to do some investigating for me. That time you wondered why he wasn't watching Barro - you remember?"

She nodded hesitantly. "When he fell and hurt his knee?"

"Correct. The real question was how to deal with Emild and Sharland. Unfortunately, the only way to get rid of a trap..."

"...is to spring it. The only way you could think of, at least." He flinched at that. _Strange. I know Nick has accepted that even his cognitive abilities have some limit. Why would that comment disturb him?_ "And you used Lady Sarah's escort and myself as the sticks to set the traps off."

He sat down with a sigh. "You seem to have figured it all out by yourself. Yes, I did, but please hold in your well-justified lecture of moral outrage for a minute. There is more, and it would be a shame for you to start before you've heard everything you have to reprimand me for." He gave her an apologetic half smile.

"Go on," she said, her expression unwavering. "How did Claude's orders tie in?"

"I needed him to protect Lady Sarah's group until the troops from Guardiana arrived to aid them. Ruce warned me that I should honestly request a favor from Guardiana, and I chose to swallow my pride and take his advice. It certainly paid off. According to Dawn's report, May's plan for Emild would have worked if not for the Guardianans' intervention. Moreover, our relations with Guardiana should be much warmer from now on." He munched down a clove. "But I digress. Upon reaching Emild's capital, Claude was to take up surveillance and report back here when and if King Ian committed an act of war; I had hoped he would not. After that, Claude's job was to ensure no harm came to you while you were in Sharland."

"But my kidnapping was according to your plan."

"Of course. This wasn't just about weeding out Iom's agents, Mayfair. In a single round of diplomatic struggle, I've managed to vastly improve our relations with Emild, Guardiana, Iom, and Sharland." He sounded rather pleased with himself, but Mayfair supposed he had a right to be. "Sharland's weakness was the combination of Muriel's still strong desire to marry me, and Saul's willingness to break the rules of diplomacy for his loved one's sakes. I picked up on the former when we were entertaining Sharland shortly after our engagement."

"That's why you were showering attention on me at Muriel's expense during her visit," she realized. "To heighten her jealousy. But why didn't you tell me to play along with the notion that you're in love with me, or give me any idea whether I should act as if in love with you?"

"I didn't want you to know about my plan, and it didn't matter what act you put on; it's Muriel's nature that she would assume I'm in love with you whatever you told her." He shrugged. "Of course, I couldn't be sure that either she or Saul would see the bait in front of them and seize it, but Saul's nature made it a near certainty, and if he disappointed me, Cypress would be no worse off. As it is, Muriel's jealousy made her responsible for what she believed to be the murder of a man's true love, and I successfully sharpened her guilt at that."

"How can you be sure Muriel or Saul was responsible?"

Nick took his time enjoying a pepper. "Sharland's security isn't that lax."

"So that's two of the Sharland royal family that you've lied to and manipulated using their most noble emotions and principles, just to increase Cypress's diplomatic advantage."

"Three, if Saul responds as I hope," Nick corrected.

"Not to mention me." She couldn't hold back a cold shudder. "Woldol did things to me while I was captive, you know. Things that will likely give me nightmares for years. And don't you dare pretend that you didn't expect it; I remember how unsurprised you were to see Woldol."

"If someone accomplishes something once - even coming back from the dead - one would be a fool to think he can't do it again." Nick stared down at his hand. "I had hoped you wouldn't end up in Woldol's hands. But I also knew that if you did, your unconquerable will would enable you to survive any torture he could devise."

"'Survive'? Good spirits, that's all that mattered to you: that I survived?" She felt a tear trembling at the corner of her eye. "Not how much he was going to hurt me? Not the chance that he would kill our baby?"

"I told you to hold in the lecture -"

"This isn't the lecture. I just asked a question."

He sighed. "It mattered. Just not as much as the suffering our people would endure if Cypress failed to gain diplomatic ground against Sharland, and if offering my life in trade didn't seem convincing to Iom's followers."

"For that end, too, you deceived me into thinking you loved me."

He nodded. "I truly hoped that that part would be unnecessary, but..."

"You should have just told me the truth. We're very lucky that I didn't see through your deception."

"How could you have?"

She smiled. "Nick, the words 'I love you' aren't very convincing when for months your every look, kiss, caress, and act as husband has said 'I don't love you.' I'd have realized you were lying immediately, if it weren't for..." -she shivered- "...that kiss. It was very convincing, I must admit. More importantly, it made it hard for me to think straight." She looked at Nick with interest. "I didn't know you could kiss like that."

"I'm sorry. After what happened the first time I kissed a woman like that, I -"

"You've kissed a woman other than your wife!?"

"Several, actually." Her mouth hung open, aghast. "It was while I was playing the part of peasant boy for the Guardianans. I wanted to seem as little like a Cypress prince as possible." He shrugged. "Besides, it is hardly forbidden for Cypress's king to practice kissing women before marriage."

It appalled her that he could think such behavior might ever be appropriate. "I suppose I should ask if you were even a virgin on our wedding day!"

"Don't be absurd. Kissing and sex aren't even remotely comparable."

She held in her response. "We can discuss that later. Right now, I want to know: was it in your plan for the Guardianans and Lady Sarah's escort to be captured as well?"

"It would have worked either way. If things had gone well in Emild, we'd have had May as a source of information and bargaining chip. As it is, the troops captured in Emild made good surprise reinforcements."

"Then... you knew about May?"

"Not when it happened. If I'd known then, I'd have done something about it," he reassured her. "I'm ashamed to say that the likely truth didn't hit me until after she and Chester had returned to Emild."

"I see." She paused. "What are we going to with her?"

"What do you think?"

She wrung her hands. "I suppose we're going to do the sensible thing: have her killed, and tell everyone she was trying to escape."

Nick winced. "If that's the sensible thing, then perhaps I'm more foolish than I thought." He took a handful of pepper, clove, and meat, and forcefully munched them all down at once. "Consider, though: she clearly fought against Iom in that battle. She continued to focus Levitate on me, even when it was obvious that the spell was only keeping me out of their reach. She found a loophole to her servitude to Iom - following the letter of his will, rather than the spirit - and she took advantage of it to help me. There's no other sensible explanation. That gives me hope for curing her condition, and a debt to repay by doing so."

"Much as I feel sorry for poor May, Nick... I am obligated to point out that you most likely would have won that battle even without her efforts."

"Yes, but it made things a bit easier, and its the effort that counts. Dispel magic can keep her confined here while our priests try to find a way to make her life force once more beat without Iom's support."

_A very risky endeavor. We have little idea of May's power now that she's a servant of Iom; she could escape just as soon as Iom decides the moment is right to do so. But Nick must already realize that._ A pleased smile came over her face, and she finally sat down, across from Nick. "If you're willing to go to that much effort for her, than I wholeheartedly approve. I'm sure I can squeeze enough time between my other duties to aid the other priests in restoring her life."

Nick nodded. "Then she's in good hands."

"What of the rest of Emild?"

"It went as well as I could have hoped," he smiled. "When we returned King Ian's siblings to him, and they told him that it was Akron and May who kidnapped them, and Cypress who saved them, he became confused. A bit sad to see, really, but what matters is that he couldn't feel sure that Cypress is his enemy anymore. For that matter, he couldn't feel sure that he knew who any of his enemies are, or any of his friends; and for that reason, I suppose, he turned the crown over to Kay. I'm not sure how Kay will work out, but it's certainly a step better than dealing with Ian."

"Did he sign the military alliance, and declare Chester innocent?"

"He did. Most everything worked out very well, though I failed on a few fronts. Varmo, for instance. I'd hoped the mission would teach him humility, but it obviously went too far in that direction. A leader isn't much good if he is incapacitated by self-doubt."

"Something you've never had to worry about," she noted. "Varmo is arrogant by nature, but only so long as he has continued successes. It's my fault for not having seen this coming. Still, he may recover from this."

"Yes." Nick frowned. "Even crushed by self-doubt, he manages to be insolent. He dared to tell me I was making a mistake."

"That wasn't insolence," Mayfair countered. "That was his honest opinion of what you should do - something you encourage your subjects to share with you, whether you do it consciously or not."

He leaned back, looked up at the ceiling. "You almost sound as though you admire me for that."

"It would be all too easy for someone who is right as often as you are, someone from such an esteemed bloodline as yours, to close his ears to any dissenting opinions. Because you do not, you have the wisdom of others at your hands, and your subjects love you all the more for respecting their words."

"I had never considered that." There was a pause. "Well, you know everything now. I deceived both the Guardianans and the young soldiers we sent with Lady Sarah, and endangered them. I manipulated Saul and Muriel. And I lied to you, toyed with your emotions, and left you and our child at the mercy of your greatest enemy. At the very same hour that you said I have a good heart." He looked at her. "I am sure you have a few words for me about all this."

She got up from her seat, her eyes carefully analyzing his face. Taking a breath, she stepped towards him.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, apparently preparing to receive another slap. Instead, she bent down and placed a kiss on his cheek.

His eyes popped open, and the look of surprise on his face was so comical that she almost laughed. "You have a cold heart, Nick," she explained. "But I maintain that it is a good one. I know you did all that for the good of your people, and the people of Emild; for once, you yourself received no benefit from your schemes. And however well prepared you were for that last confrontation, you did place your life at risk for the sake of Lady Sarah and her protectors."

He shook his head. "It was nothing more than my duty."

"It is not the king's duty to place his life at risk unless the dignity of Cypress is at stake. And what about your decision to help May?"

"That is a matter of justice."

"Justice doesn't involve sympathy," she pointed out. "Whatever her reasons, May is a traitor to both her country and her friends; justice dictates that she should die. You showed understanding for the situation she is in through no fault of her own. Just as you showed understanding for King Ian, a man far more culpable for his misdeeds than May is for hers."

"Mayfair, have you no idea how much more trouble we'd have to deal with if Ian were killed?"

She put a hand to his shoulder. "I understand why you refuse to acknowledge this goodness in you, Nick. You're afraid that if you congratulate yourself too much on your deeds, you'll lower your guard and credit your every decision to kindness and selflessness. Not unlike a general getting drunk on victories until carelessness costs him a battle. But not believing yourself to be a good person can take a toll as well. Just this once, allow yourself to be proud of having acted with compassion."

The corners of his mouth lifted just slightly. "Kiss me once more, and I'll be convinced that I should be proud."

She folded her arms and gave him a stern look. "Even if you never let it show in public, this roguish attitude of yours is not becoming of a king. ...Still, it is good to see you happy, so I'll humor you this once." She bent and kissed his cheek again.

He smiled, looking at her with interest. "It's funny... but you seem more like a mother to me than either a friend or a wife. It makes me all the more assured of how well you'll care for your real child." She wasn't sure what to say to that, so she just returned his smile. "I must go speak with Apis. If you would excuse me...?"

She nodded, and followed him out the door. Just before they parted, he turned and said, "Mayfair... thank you for that. You give me hope for myself."

"It's a fair trade. You give me hope for us all."

Mayfair went to do her duties. The faint sounds of friendly voices and laughter rang through the halls of Castle Cypress, too soft for someone like Nick to hear, but clear as a bell to her well-trained ears.


	44. Epilogue

- Epilogue: Hello (part 2) -

The first scream that came from Natasha was enough to hurt Deanna's ears, though he wasn't sure if it was actually the volume that hurt, or simply the sound of her in such pain. The scream was drawn-out as well as loud, and when it finished she fell to gasping. "It hurts... It hurts..."

He gave up on the back rubs he'd been giving to help her through the contractions and instead took hold of her hand, letting his other hand rest on her shoulder. "I'm here, Natasha. I'm here."

"Don't lose focus on your breathing," the midwife urged.

Natasha's breath once more heaved faster and deeper, climaxing in another scream of agony, seemingly twice as long as the last. Her body tensed, face contorted, eyes squeezing shut in a vain attempt to block out all sensation. Her fingernails pierced into the skin of Deanna's hand. He could feel his heart rending in two at the sight of her like this.

_Something's wrong... I know the last minutes are supposed to be painful, but this is..._

The scream ended at last, but Natasha's gasps were louder and harsher than before. "Get a hold of yourself," the midwife scolded. "You need to save your strength for pushing."

Natasha seemed too caught up in pain and anxiety to hear what she said, so Deanna didn't bother arguing with the midwife. He stroked Natasha's back in an effort to soothe her, but she still wasn't ready when the next contraction came. Another scream rent the air.

It went on for what seemed an eternity, each contraction seeming to hit her harder than the one before; though the screams were often replaced by short cries, her face perceptibly sagged more and more.

Finally the midwife said, "Alright, time to start pushing. Lay back."

Deanna grabbed the blankets that lay by the bed they had for her and positioned them to support her back as best as he could. Again her breathing quickened, anticipation of the pain to come filled her eyes, and she gripped Deanna's hand with all her strength. In a few moments, she let out her most agonized scream yet.

After a few more contractions, the midwife said impatiently, "Stop fighting it. You're just making it harder on yourself. Work with what's happening; don't resist it."

Natasha nodded and struggled to catch her breath. Just a minute or so later, however, she again hit a rush of anxiety that Deanna could sense even before she cried out. When the contraction subsided, he could feel her body go limp.

"Natasha!" He forced his voice to stay steady, despite the fear that her obvious struggle with the labor aroused in him. "Natasha, hold on. You're doing fine. Just keep it up a bit longer."

"Deanna..." She looked at him, trembling, sweat running down her face. "Promise me you'll take care of Carla..."

The implication hit him like a kick to the gut. "No... no!" He clung to her hand, his eyes ready to overflow with tears. "I can't live without you!"

"You can! Maybe you -" She broke off with a sharp gasp. "...needed me before, but I know you don't need me now. Carla..." She gasped again, so harsh that at first he thought it would turn into into another scream. "...Please!"

He could already feel the tears running down his face. It hurt all the more to know that she was right, that he had grown to the point where, as central as she was to his life and his motivations, he didn't truly _need_ her. He knew that it was for the better, that his independence was the only way he could truly honor the strength she'd given him, but he couldn't help but feel that if he were too weak to go on without her, the gods wouldn't allow her to die.

He swallowed and forced out, "I... promise."

"Push!" the midwife demanded.

Natasha's face set with determination. _She's ready to give up her life so that Carla can be born... With all the love Natasha has in her heart, she couldn't do any less. But dammit, why did she have to be put in a place where she'd have to make that decision? How could the gods allow this happen to her?_

Natasha howled with full volume at the pain. He held her hand and told her over and over that he loved her. He wished that this moment were over, that Natasha could be out of her pain. At the same time, he wanted to hold onto the moment forever, because Natasha was still alive.

The sound of crying caught his attention. He turned his head.

There she was. Carla.

"Oh gods..." Natasha gasped. "Oh sweet gods, she's real!"

Deanna was speechless. "About time you two quieted down," the midwife growled as she took a knife to cut the umbilical. "Honestly, I've never seen two parents whine so much about a routine childbirth. I can't imagine what you'd have been like if there'd been complications."

Carla was still crying with all the strength of her tiny lungs. Natasha reached out with both arms as the midwife handed her over. "Oh... Oh..." she moaned, her voice utterly transformed by an immense adoration. "It's okay, sweetheart... Mommy's here..."

Deanna gaped as Natasha took Carla in her arms, stroking the back of the baby's head. "I- I don't believe it," he stammered. "I'm a fa- fa..."

"Shhh, shhh... Don't cry, little Carla..."

* * *

Before long Carla had stopped crying, soothed by her mother's voice and touch. When she began squirming, Natasha decided she needed to be fed. With Deanna's help, she removed her blouse, then held Carla while she suckled contentedly. It occurred to Deanna that he hadn't seen Natasha's breasts in a while, and though they were still on the small side, they had definitely grown, maybe in preparation for nursing. Carla seemed hungry enough for that to be the case.

"You know, Deanna, it seems like every time I think I couldn't love you any more, something like this happens. Look at her," Natasha sighed happily. "She's beautiful. She has eyes just like yours."

"I... guess she does." He couldn't take his eyes off of Carla. Could she really be his little girl? "Are you... feeling alright? After your labor, I mean..."

"Just fine. Tired, but fine."

They said nothing for a few minutes. They didn't need to.

"Her ears..." Deanna said at last. "The little lobes are shaped just like yours... but they're different, too, somehow, I... I don't even know how to say what I'm thinking." He blushed. "She _is_ beautiful."

Carla had finished feeding. "Here," Natasha said, holding her towards him. Carla's eyes widened as she looked at the world around her. "You hold her for a while."

"No... that's alright, I..."

"Take her," Natasha insisted. "She needs to be with her daddy for a while."

Deanna picked her up from Natasha's hands as carefully as though she were a priceless glass sculpture. Her skin felt so soft, so new. When he supported her against his chest and shoulder, she suddenly began crying.

"She doesn't like me..." he said, handing her back to Natasha.

"Give her a chance!"

He gave in and held Carla, lightly stroking her soft skin and her first timid strands of hair until she quieted. She rested against his shoulder, tiny lungs breathing steadily.

Natasha smiled. "See?" He gave a mute nod.

Carla shifted in his arms, turning to stare at his chin, then up at his eyes. Her innocent gaze made Deanna feel oddly embarrassed. _Our daughter... Blessed Iom, our daughter. What do I do now? How is a father supposed to act with his child? I love her so much, but... I don't know how..._

Letting out a soft gurgle, Carla reached up and clasped his nose. In that moment, Deanna felt his doubt vanish.

END


End file.
